


Lies Travel Faster: Part One

by HazelNMae



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelNMae/pseuds/HazelNMae
Summary: Sophia Murphy's life seems to be on the upswing when she takes a job with Birmingham's notorious Shelby Company Ltd. But when she falls for her boss, CEO and ruthless gangster, Tommy Shelby, she finds herself wrapped up in a tangled web of danger and deceit. After all, lies travel faster than the truth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work will stay mostly true to cannon and falls in the action of the 4th season.

“God, he doesn’t really sound like that, does he?” She asked. But John just kept up the imitation, trying his best not to crack a smile. With a deep voice and with narrowed eyes he said, “Look, love, I’ll snap your neck if you fuck up my books one more time,” as he pointed his finger in her face.

Sophie laughed, tears filling her eyes.

Despite having spent the last few months in Birmingham she hadn’t met any of the Shelby family until last night at the pub when, uninvited, John tried to put his hands on her ass. She sweetly batted them away, instantly recognizing the haircut she’d been warned about. Much to her surprise, he didn’t respond with anger or aggression. Instead he asked her to join him for a pint, which Sophie found herself happy to accept. 

She sat with John for hours that night, joking about anything she could between somber discussions of the war. 

Sophie had heard the three Shelby brothers served in France when she was there. Although it’d been six years now since the war, Sophie was still trying to settle and make a home for herself in England. 

John’s eyes slowly filled with tears each time he spoke of the Somme. Sophie let him finish each story before subtly turning back to lighter subjects. He wasn’t the brightest man she’d ever met, but she could tell he knew she was saving him from himself, and that he appreciated it.

He mentioned the job at the end of the night, as he helped her into her coat. 

“We’re in need of a bookkeeper. It’s not much. The pay isn’t impressive and the work is tedious, but it’d help you get back on your feet.” John seemed so kind-hearted, nothing like the rumors she’d heard of him.

Sophie had told him of her struggle to find work after the war. She started in London, at a small hospital which closed after only a few years. She’d worked odd jobs after that, but hadn’t been able to find new work as a nurse, regardless of how hard she’d tried.

“Come by tomorrow morning, if you’re interested,” he’d said.

That was last night. This morning Sophie sat cutting up with John in the front room of Shelby Company Ltd. as she waited to interview for the open post as a bookkeeper.

“I swear, I sound just like him. Right Pol?” John leaned back in his chair and asked his aunt for affirmation. She responded with an eye roll that would have shook the ground, if it wasn’t accompanied by a smile. 

As she spoke with John, Sophie observed the grandiose office space. It was dark, in a rich and purposeful way. Mahogany adorned the walls, broken up only by the glass windows of several offices and dim sconces that bounced a flattering light about the room. She and John sat at one of two desks in the front room, while Polly occupied the other. 

The offices off the main waiting room appeared impressive. She could clearly see into two of them, through the open blinds on the clear glass windows. But the office at the back had mottled glass windows and large, frosted glass, double doors keeping it closed off from prying eyes. Etched in the glass was a name: Thomas Shelby.

One common theme in all the stories she’d heard about the Peaky Blinders was Thomas Shelby’s ruthlessness. Sophie knew he’d made a way for himself, and his whole family, by doing what others were too afraid to do. He’d taken what he wanted, what he thought they deserved, without caring who he hurt along the way. She was nervous to be in, what she assumed to be, the company’s headquarters. Even more nervous at the thought she’d have to interview with Thomas. John hadn’t mentioned his brother last night and she, naively, never thought he’d be involved with hiring such a low level position. 

Polly seemed to read the trepidation on her face and offered some encouragement, “We keep racking up new enemies. We just need to be sure we can trust any new hire in the office.”

“Oh don’t worry about Tommy,” John added, seeing her reaction to Polly’s words. “If I tell him to hire you, he will,” he said with a wink and a smile. That gained him another eye roll from Polly, who lit a cigarette and smiled.

Just as she was considering the irony of a gangster’s name etched in such an elegant script, the main door to the office quickly flung open, dragging in a swath of cold, winter air. A dark silhouette filled the bright space behind the door as Sophie’s eyes adjusted to the blinding light behind it. As he walked into the room, she saw Thomas Shelby for the first time. Sophie made note not of his handsome features, but of their sad expression. He looked like a war-worn soldier--like so many of the men she saw daily in France--wearing a three piece suit.

He shot a glance her way as he removed his peaked cap and walked past her to his office. The air behind him hung thick with tobacco.

“Stay right there,” John said with a wink as he followed quickly on Tommy’s heels. Polly also stood, smiled in Sophie’s direction, and walked into Tommy’s office closing the door behind them.

* * *

“Good morning, Thomas,” Polly said, as she closed the door behind them.

Tommy worked in silence as he poured himself a whiskey with no regard for the early hour. He’d been shaken by the black hand they’d received earlier in the week and had spent the last few days even closer to the edge than usual. But it was finding a stranger in the front room this morning that’d really tried his patience. 

“Who’s the bird?” He asked in his deep, raspy brummie.

“Name’s Sophie. She’s applied for the position. Here for an interview,” John explained with a proud smile.

Tommy paused, his back still turned to Polly and John as he contemplated his response. “Send her home,” he said as he replaced the whiskey decanter on the table.

“Wha—Why?” Asked John.

“I said to send her home,” louder this time. The topic wasn’t open for debate.

“She’s bright, and funny—you should have heard her out there,” John said, his own frustration rising as he bit down on the toothpick he’d placed between his teeth. 

“Tommy,” said Polly, “the girl needs a job. She has no family and is half a world away from anything familiar.”

“Don’t,” Tommy said, knowing Polly was trying to appeal to his heart. He sat down and began rifling through the papers on his desk, confident he’d put the matter to bed.

“We need a bookkeeper,” Polly said, this time leaving his heart out of it.

“Fine,” said Tommy, slamming the papers back down on the desk. “Send her in.”

John and Polly turned toward the door. 

“I’ll send her home,” he mumbled over his glass of whiskey.

Tommy watched John’s misshapen silhouette through the mottled glass as he spoke with Sophie and led her back toward the office door. He returned his gaze to the desk as she entered and waited until John cleared his throat to acknowledge either one of them. It didn’t matter how bright or funny she was, his gut told him it was the wrong time to hire a beautiful new employee. And his gut was rarely wrong.

* * *

“Come in and shut the door behind you,” he said to her. 

Sophie wasn’t prepared for the pleasant lilt yet ominous depth of his voice. It was more silky than his brothers impression of him--although John had perfected the hardened tone--like rubbing velvet against the nap. Sophie entered the room with her chin held high and looked directly into his hollow, crystal eyes.

“Sit” he commanded.

She made her way across the room toward his desk only stopping when he gestured toward the leather covered chair directly across from him. He watched her intently from across his whiskey glass as she moved, slow but steady. She was slight, but seemingly strong. Her dress hung from her muscular curves in a pleasing way that he hadn't noticed when she was seated outside. 

“What’s your name,” he asked.

“Sophia Murphy.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Are you fucking my brother, Ms. Murphy?”

While his question surprised her, it was the coldness with which he asked it that really caught her off guard. John had been so warm, but she could tell now that Thomas was something quite different. She watched him grow impatient awaiting her answer. 

“No.” She answered plainly. 

His cold, blue eyes ripped through her, but she didn't flinch. She’d spent much of her life around men like Thomas Shelby. Powerful, intelligent men who were accustomed to getting what they wanted. And while he was very different from his brother, she wasn't afraid of him.

He finally broke the silence. “Do you want to?”

Sophie refused to answer, internally seething at the audacity with which he'd asked the question. She calmed herself, though, before her anger became apparent.

Tommy removed the cigarette box and matches from his breast pocket and set them on the table. Slowly, as if he knew how it complemented his full lips, he placed a cigarette between them and let hang from a moment before lighting it. 

“So why are you here instead of America, Ms. Murphy?” he asked, changing the subject. The smoke from his cigarette lazily filled the air between them. She watched the ash collect before he finally tapped it into the crystal ashtray in front of him. 

“There’s nothing left for me there,” She replied.

She had a confidence about her that he admired. Tommy wasn’t accustomed to women speaking to him so openly. All the women he’d know, with the exception of his aunt Polly, had assumed a submissive role in his presence. Sophie was rather exhilarating in that regard--something different. He raised an eyebrow at her, encouraging her to continue.

“I have no family, Mr. Shelby,” Sophie continued. “My parents died when I was 16. My older brother and I ran the family business until the draft.”

He offered her a cigarette and leaned across the desk to light it when she accepted. He didn’t return to his original position, choosing, instead, to stay somewhat close to her.

“Henry was killed in the third year of his deployment. I’d only been in a year myself at that time. I never even considered returning home. By the time the news of the treaty reached us in Amiens, I’d almost forgotten about home altogether.”

There it was. 

She’d been changed by the war, just like him. She’d seen men at their worst--the world at its worst. She saw war--and survived it. Amiens. Verdun. The Somme. Mons. All teeming with despair. All ruined.

He’d been ruined by the war. Perhaps so had she.

“Nurse turned bookkeeper?” he asked.

“I’m not a bookkeeper,” she responded. “Turns out too many nurses survived,” she grinned sardonically.

Tommy understood. He’d struggled to find his own place after the war, always unsure of whether or not the world really needed his newly acquired talents. What he’d eventually settled into resembled his life before the war, but was quite detached. He couldn’t get the war out of his bones and found himself constantly on edge like he had been in the tunnels. In every relationship he felt himself harden and close off access to his thoughts and emotions. When he had finally opened his heart to Grace, it became her undoing. He’d decided it was best to keep everyone at a safe distance. The fear of losing someone always present in the back of his mind. 

“I don’t want to hire you as a bookkeeper,” he said, watching her. She didn’t look up or even seem to really acknowledge him at all, except for the almost imperceptible nod she made in his direction. If he hadn’t been staring so carefully at her, he’d have missed it.

She gathered her purse and made as if to stand and leave when he interrupted again, “I’d like to hire you as an assistant. My assistant,” he continued. “You’ll keep the diary, answer phone calls, reply to posts. General secretarial work.”

She stood in silence a moment and held his gaze, sure there was more he wanted to say. 

“I feel confident my associates will take a shine to you. I could use someone like you at the important meetings.” It wasn’t untrue, but he was kidding himself if he thought he was hiring her for any reason other than the fact that he was simply fascinated by her. 

Sophie let out a laugh, causing him to lose control of the smile that crossed his own lips. “Is that a ‘no’, then?” 

Sophie just shook her head. “I’ll only accept on one condition, Mr. Shelby.” He nodded, beckoning her to continue. “Under no circumstances will I fuck you, or anyone else _for_ you. Including John. I will not be used, Mr. Shelby”

_She is fascinating._

Tommy nodded. “Fair enough,” he said, as he stood and extended his hand to shake hers. “Welcome to Shelby Company Limited,” 

And he held her hand a little longer than was proper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Tommy grew increasingly fond of Sophie he also grew increasingly worried about an attack from the Italians.

Each gunshot echoed through the warehouse landing squarely against Alfie’s right temple. He usually let the men on the floor handle the starlings, but their terrible aim was threatening to turn his headache into a full blown migraine if he didn’t step in. 

“Oy,” he yelled emerging from his office. “Right, let me at them, then.” He snatched the revolver from the young man closest to him and forced back the hammer, without pulling his eyes away from the man’s frightened expression. Leaning on his cane to steady himself, Alfie took quick aim and hit one of the two birds with his first shot. 

“That’s how that’s fucking done, then.” He handed the gun back to his startled employee and motioned for him to continue hunting the remaining bird. 

Turning on his heel, he lumbered back toward his office, talking all the while. “What is it they say? If you want something done fuckin’ right, it’s best to do it yourself? That sounds about right, doesn’t it mate? BACK AT IT, THEN,” he called, as he slammed the door behind him.

Ollie awaited him in the office wearing a worried expression and, while this wasn’t a rare occurrence, it did catch Alfie off guard. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture and felt certain that’s what his friend was about to unleash on him. Alfie felt his heart pulse in his temple and pinched his nose in another attempt to stave off the headache. “What is it then, mate? On with it.” 

“A message for you, Alfie,” Ollie answered, holding the telegram card out toward his employer. 

Alfie took it absentmindedly as he placed his glasses back on his nose. He stroked his beard and looked it over. 

LET US DISCUSS YOUR EXPANDING BUSINESS -- L. CHANGRETTA

Alfie's eyes widened and his fingers moved from his beard to scratch at the patch of irritated skin on his cheek. He’d heard the Italians were in England--no doubt in pursuit of their vendetta toward the Shelby family--but he’d hoped to stay out of the conflict. 

“Fucking hell, mate --” 

It was all he could get out before the gunshots rang through the warehouse again, startling him this time as he jerked violently in response. 

* * *

Sophie’s first few days on the job were ordinary enough. Polly came around daily to check on her, but Sophie was smart and tough and didn’t need much oversight. She had the diary reorganized by the end of her second day and had corrected all of Arthur’s bad math in the books by the end of her third. Though he’d never admit it, Tommy was quickly impressed by her. She’d turned out to be more than just a pretty face and the war-torn story that captured his attention and prompted him to hire her.

After a couple of weeks, Sophie had fully adjusted and it was as if she’d worked there for years. She even moved her expensive electric percolator to the office so she could have fresh, hot coffee instead of tea.

Tommy’s fascination continued to deepen and he found himself seeking her company, faking the need for someone to take dictation or to help him schedule various meetings.

But as he grew increasingly fond of Sophie he also grew increasingly worried about an attack from the Italians. While Alfie worried over the starlings in his warehouse, Tommy worried over the black hand in his desk. It’d been a month since he received it and he’d yet to tell anyone in the family, except for Polly. No news wasn’t always good news, despite how his aunt tried to convince him otherwise. He feared it only meant Changretta was watching them, mounting an indefensible attack. Polly convinced him to keep the rest of the family in the dark until they had confirmation the Italians were near. Tommy agreed, but only after posting triple the usual number of Peaky and Lee boys to protect his family.

Today, his new assistant provided a nice distraction from the stress troubling his mind. 

They worked in tandem, Tommy signing falsified purchase forms while Sophie filed them away. He considered how she hadn’t batted an eye at the ‘less than legal’ side of his business, watching her confirm the signatures on each forged document without a second thought for it’s content. She’d seen the wickedness of war. Was that why she was unaffected by the wickedness of his business? 

“Did you always know you’d do this? Build an empire?” Sophie's question was a welcome interruption to his thoughts . 

Tommy chuckled. “No, I can’t say I did.”

“So what _did_ you want to do with your life?”

He thought that over for a moment. It had been a long time since Tommy considered what he truly wanted. He’d been operating on auto-pilot for so long--making the moves he thought he should for the business, for the family. His family didn’t seem to understand that, but Tommy knew everything he did, he did for them. 

“I don’t know. Something with horses,” he finally answered. He put down his pen and took up a cigarette, leaning back in his chair to enjoy it. “Do you ride, Ms. Murphy?”

This drew a small smile from her lips. “I grew up riding. Had a beautiful gray.” She re-shuffled he stack of papers. “Her name was Belle.” She continued to file the signed forms, not turning to address him directly as she talked. 

“On the farm?” He asked, taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

“Hmmm,” She hummed in reply, placing the next form in its place in the drawer. 

He sat in the quiet that followed her response, the paper sliding along the file folders the only sound between them for several minutes. 

“I grew up riding, too,” Tommy offered, feeling obliged to share more. “I’ve always been more comfortable around horses than people.”

Sophie had never met anyone who seemed more collected and comfortable around people than Tommy. In the month she’d worked for him, she’d seen him in many tense situations. Unexpected visits from men like Alfie Solomons, closed door meetings with Polly, coppers, politicians, foremen with long lists of demands for their workers, the list went on and on. And in every interaction, Tommy remained calm, stoic even, always completely controlled. He owned the room, regardless of who else was in it. 

“You seem plenty comfortable with people to me,” she said. Finally finished with the signed documents, Sophie turned to face him for the first time since their conversation began and leaned against the heavy wooden filing cabinet.

“Do I?” He asked, extinguishing his cigarette and placing his hands on his knees. “Alright, come here,” he said, rising from his desk and stepping around the corner to where she stood. 

Sophie did as she was told and closed the distance between them. He took her hand and placed it over his heart, sliding her fingers below his waistcoat so she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin layers of cotton. The motion pulled her to him even more and it struck Sophie that this was the closest she’d ever stood to Tommy. She could smell his aftershave and could feel his warm breath as it hit the short, loose hairs around her face. She made note of how her eyes fell even with his lips. All this time she thought he was taller, but perhaps it was just his presence that was so commanding. 

“Do you feel it?” His deep brummie snapping her back to reality.

She did. His heart. It was racing.

“Why is it beating so fast?” She asked with a furrowed brow.

“It always does when I feel intimidated or threatened,” he responded.

The tobacco on his breath filled her nose and left her head spinning. “But It’s just us here,” She said with a slight shake of her head.

She felt his hummed affirmation more than she heard it. “You must be intimidating,” he said.

She wasn’t entirely sure if he was serious, his expression, as usual, not betraying his thoughts. How on earth could this man, Thomas Shelby, be intimidated by her? He’d seen so much, done so much. How could she intimidate a man who’d killed numerous others, both in France and in Birmingham? How could she intimidate a man with such power?

Sophie found herself suddenly aware of her own heart rate and took a few deep breaths to steady it.

“Alright,” she said. “Now give me your hand.”

Tommy hesitated prompting a quick laugh from Sophie. “Come one now, I’ve humored you. It’s my turn.”

Leaving one hand on Tommy’s chest, she used the other to place his on her own heart. Her soft skin felt rich under his rough fingers, like a luxurious silk, and he fought the urge to let his hand explore further. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she had a pleasing scent. And while Tommy didn’t know enough about flowers to identify it, he knew it was distinctly floral and fresh. He breathed her in deeply.

He’d been with other women since losing Grace, but only out of necessity--either in business or in need of release. What he hadn’t experienced since losing Grace was the desire to learn a woman--to find what pleased her and revisit it again and again. He felt this desire building in him now, as he carefully read all the features of Sophie’s face. 

Sophie watched as he ran his tongue along his lips and cleared her throat. “Right,” She said. “Now close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing.”

Tommy did as she instructed and felt her begin to tap her fingers on top of his hand mirroring her own slow, steady heart rate. Before he realized it, his own heartbeat had slowed and fallen into rhythm with Sophie’s.

“See, that’s not so bad,” She whispered with a smirk.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Tommy asked as his eyes sprung open. 

Sophie just smiled and Tommy felt a familiar tug in his chest at the sight of it. Without thinking, he slowly moved his hand up her neck to cup her cheek, holding her eyes with his own. “Who are you, Ms. Murphy?” he asked quietly.

She looked away from his scrutinizing stare. “Call me Sophie,” she replied.

His hand felt heavy against her face, but as much as she wanted to pull away, she couldn’t. Tommy broke the connection first. 

“Gather your things, Sophie. I’ve somewhere to be and I can drop you at your flat on the way,” he said, dropping his hand.

And just like that, it was as if the whole interaction had never happened. She just watched as he removed something from his desk, shook into his coat, and headed toward the office door.

He turned and held a hand out toward her, motioning for Sophie to join him. 

“And call me Tommy.”

* * *

Even though the family had owned it for years now (and frequented long before), Tommy had never grown accustomed to the smell of The Garrison Pub. There was a time, when they were all still living in Small Heath, that they were the first to arrive and (Arthur at least) the last to leave. But their lives had changed dramatically over the last several years. Polly was comfortable in her posh neighborhood, Ada was making her way in London, Arthur and John had both moved their families to the countryside, even Tommy himself now lived at Arrow House--their nights at The Garrison seemed few and far between. That was before the arrival of Luca Changretta on Birmingham’s soil. Now, Tommy needed to convince his family to return to the muck and smoke of their roots, at least until he could feel confident they were safe. 

As he entered the pub, Tommy took in the crowd. It was busy, which was good for business, but retained the same stale scent of spilled beer and sweat from the men who’d just walked off the line of a full day’s work. He quickly ducked into the snug, avoiding small talk with any of the patrons who may want to challenge, or kiss the ass of, the man who ran their streets. 

His family was already waiting for him. Tommy could feel the tension between them as soon as he entered the small room. It had taken a while, but Michael, Polly and John eventually decided to put the incident of their arrests and damn near executions behind them. Michael, perhaps, was the only one who’d actually forgiven Tommy for turning them over, but he was grateful the others had, at least, moved on with business. Arthur was another story, likely being fed a hostile rhetoric from Linda, though Tommy couldn’t blame her. She was far brighter than some members of his family, and perhaps more manipulative too. He’d expect nothing less than her constantly in Arthur’s ear, pressuring him to leave his “corrupt brother and shady business dealings” and head for a new life elsewhere. Ada was hesitant to admit it, but she almost saw the necessity of what he’d done when Tommy turned on his entire family. He believed the ends justified the means and his own belief in that was almost enough to convince her as well. 

He’d never know exactly what they were saying when he entered the snug, but he would have placed a bet it wasn’t in his favor.

“Right then, let’s get on with it,” Arthur said, impatiently.

Tommy remained standing. “A month ago, I received this,” he said, tossing the black hand on the table between them all. “I received it because we killed someone, Vicente Changretta.”

He watched as each member of the family reacted to the card on the table. Each one sharing in the shock and fear that washed through the room. Only Polly remained unfazed. 

“And now, I have it on good authority, his son Luca has come to take revenge,” Tommy continued. “Men from New York and Sicily here in Birmingham. These men will not leave our city until our whole family is dead. That's how it works--an eye for an eye. It's called vendetta.”

Tommy paused and looked around the room to ensure all eyes were on him before continuing. “This means, that despite the bad blood between us, until this business is settled, we stay together.”

Linda rolled her eyes.

“And we stay here,” Tommy added.

“We can defend our own homes, Tommy,” Arthur said. 

But Tommy didn’t acknowledge him. “From Small Heath down the corridor of Stratford Road to Arrow House. We know every face and every man is a soldier in this army.”

“Tom,” John interrupted. “Arthur’s right, we should remain in our own homes. I’m not uprooting my family because some fucking Italians think they can play soldier.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Esme threw at her husband. “They’d likely come for us first, seeing how remote we are." 

“Right. And these men are professionals, they're good at what they do, so we're going to need more than we have. I've sent a message to Aberama Gold,” Tommy continued.

Johnny, who had remained quiet until now, pushed off the wall and took a step forward. “No,” he said. “No, Tom. I'll get you fifty Lee boys. Good men, Tom.”

“I don't need good men, Johnny. For this, I need bad men.”

“His people are fuckin' savages. You know?” Johnny continued. “Heathens, Tom. They don't even let them in the fair, so they come and steal our horses. You know, stealing from their own, Tom.”

“So this the plan, Thomas? _This_ is the plan?” Polly asked. “I supposed there’ll be a bullet with a name on it? Help from a bunch of savages?”

Tommy took a deep breath. Although his aunt knew about the black hand, he hadn’t told her his plans to retaliate. 

“We're going to go on the offensive, Polly,” He added. “I've spoken to Moss. He’s putting out word.” Linda scoffed, but Tommy just pressed on. "Eyes and ears so we can find 'em.” Tommy placed his hands on the table and leaned closer to his family. “Yeah, the truth is, the police are busy with the revolution. Moss says they're expecting strikes and riots when the weather gets warmer. The Bolsheviks are planning…”

“The Bolsheviks couldn't plan a fucking picnic,” Ada interrupted, “He's reading the wrong papers.”

“Ada! Real or not real, the coppers don't give a fuck about us. All right?” His sister rolled her eyes, but he just continued, standing up straight again and crossing his hands in front of him. “Which means that here today, in this room, we have to agree to end this war between us…” Tommy paused, staring at the back wall across the room. 

“So we can move on to a bigger one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't live through John's death again, so I won't. :)
> 
> Feedback always welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's plan for the Italians starts to take shape, but Sophie drops a bombshell that might send the whole operation up in smoke.

Polly sat across from her nephew, starting daggers into the top of his head as he faked focus on the work on his desk. As the only person in his family who ever dared disobey him, she didn’t move when moments ago he insisted the conversation was over and she could see herself out. 

Now Polly was sat waiting for an explanation about Tommy’s plans for Changretta.

“Thomas, we don’t even know what this man looks like,” she said, still trying to reason with him. 

Tommy simply hummed in assent, never once removing his eyes from the papers on his desk. He skimmed the letter in front of him for the third time, but he still had no idea what it contained. His mind was scrambled and he just wanted his aunt out of the room so he could concentrate.

“They’ll find us before we find them. Probably already have,” she added, leaning back in her chair.

Tommy removed his glasses and rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation.

“Listen, it’s best if you don’t know the details, alright?”

“Nothing happens in this fucking family without my knowing, Thomas.” Polly moved forward in her chair and scrambled through her bag for her cigarette case. “You’ve got your entire family in stitches, uprooting their own families to come back to this hellscape, and for what? You won’t tell --”

“Fine!” Tommy slammed his hands on his desk and sent various papers flying to the floor. Polly’s eyes widened, but she otherwise didn’t react. She was just as resilient and composed as her nephew in uncomfortable situations. After all, he’d learned it from her. 

“I’ve been working with Alfie Solomons --”

Polly scoffed, lighting a cigarette and sitting back in her chair once again.

“I’ve been working with Alfie,” Tommy started over, ignoring her interruption, “on a plot to throw me over and lead me right into Changretta’s hands.”

“You’re not serious,” Polly replied with a smirk. 

It was his turn to stare daggers, letting his piercing eyes do their worst. He’d thought it through--overthought it, probably--and while he wasn’t crazy about playing bait, he didn’t have another option that wouldn’t compromise the family. As far as Changretta knew, Tommy was the one who pulled the trigger killing his father. He’d come straight for Tommy at any opportunity.

“Pol --”

“Don’t you fuckin’ ‘Pol’ me,” she scolded.

Tommy stood. “What would you have me do, eh!?” he yelled. “This way I call the shots! I know the fucking day! The fucking time! I’ll be prepared--as prepared as I can be!” Calming himself, he continued, “Moss and his men will be on call. At the very least it will buy us some fucking time, Pol.”

Polly watched him in silence as the understanding slowly washed over her face. The only way to ensure the continued safety of their family was to put Tommy at risk. 

Tommy sat back down, lit a cigarette and stared over her shoulder to the wall at the front of his office. As if saying it to no one in particular, he quietly added, “It’s me or it’s the fucking lot of us.”

* * *

“Well it’s about fuckin’ time there, mate,” Alfie said as Tommy walked into the empty warehouse ten minutes later than they’d agreed to meet. “What is it with you and your grand fuckin’ entrances, yeah?” 

“What have you got for me?” Tommy asked, visibly irritated and in no mood for one of Alfie’s long soliloquies. 

“So we’re right to business, then. No time for pleasantries between friends?” 

“It’s good to see you, Alfie,” Tommy said as he threw his spent cigarette on the floor.

“You too, mate, you too,” Alfie nodded his head and balanced his weight on the cane at his side. He scratched his beard, taking in Tommy’s irritated demeanor. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Tommy so uneasy. Even staring down the barrel of a gun--which Alfie had been witness to on multiple occasions--Tommy maintained his composure. Today, though, he paced around the room, as if standing still were admitting defeat to the war in his mind.

Alfie continued, “So this fuckin’ wop friend of yours is a right piece of work.”

Tommy stopped pacing and gave his full attention, eyes widened searching Alfie's face for the next piece of information. 

“Don’t worry there, treacle don’t worry. I got him to agree. Took the deal without negotiation, yeah. Two hundred barrels of my rum on a little boat headed for the States.” Alfie made a little motion with his hands, like stirring water in a small, imaginary sea in front of him. 

Tommy nodded. _Finally, something falling into place as planned._

“I don’t like this, mate. I just need you to acknowledge that, yeah? No negotiation? You’re fuckin’ right Tommy--he won’t leave until he’s killed us all.”

The optimism drained from his face and for once in his life Tommy wished he’d been wrong.

* * *

“Come in,” she heard Tommy’s voice through the door and felt her heart drop to her stomach as she turned the knob and entered his office. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Tommy, but I need to ask you a question.”

Tommy, without looking up from his work, motioned for her to come further into his office.

Sophie closed the door and crossed the room. Her steps felt heavy as she approached his desk with the mounting fear of what she’d uncovered. The photograph she’d found when she opened the morning post would change everything--her future with the company and her life in Birmingham. 

It was a photograph of a wedding. 

When Tommy finally looked up from his desk and took in her worried expression, he removed his glasses and nodded at her to go on. 

“I know it’s none of my --” She paused to take a deep breath and clear her throat. “Do you have business with the Changretta family?” she asked, placing the photograph on the corner of his desk. 

Tommy glanced at the photograph but showed no reaction. Once again, he wasn’t going to freely give up his secrets with any expression of emotion.

Sophie looked down at her hands. “I’ve not been entirely honest with you about my past.”

“Sit,” was all he said in response.

She sat in the leather covered chair, the very one she’d interviewed from a month or so prior, wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and waited for Tommy’s cue to continue. 

“How so, Sophie?” he asked.

She thought he must be able to see her heart pulse through her skin--her heart, unlike his, ready to betray her at any moment. “I don’t come from a family of farmers,” she confessed. “We _lived_ on a farm, but our business was the manufacturing and distribution of moonshine whiskey.”

“You’re father was a bootlegger?” Tommy sat forward now, leaning on his desk, showing interest, at least.

“We were _all_ bootleggers. Tommy, I know horses because I’ve spent my life riding them through the woods--checking on stills, evading the police. I don’t bat an eye at your business because, well, I know it--intimately. I can shoot a gun because I’ve had to.”

They both sat in the silence that followed her confession. In all these years, Sophie had never shared the truth about her past. She’d never had the need to. But now, with the Changretta family so close again, she feared what might happen if she didn’t. Tommy had a right to know. He’d hired her in good faith and she didn’t want to pose a risk for him. She’d grown to appreciate Tommy as an employer. He trusted her with her job, acknowledged her intelligence, respected her opinion. She owed him the truth.

“The year before my parents were killed, the Changretta family expanded their business into more rural areas. When they did, they moved on our distribution territory.” Sophie paused to get her bearings. “It began with threats. We’d find upturned stills on our property, corn fields burning, dead fish on our doorstep. But it ended with an attack on our family. One night, when I was fifteen, they broke into our home--”

Tommy interrupted. “You told me your parents died when you were sixteen.”

“Right. There were two sons on this side of Changretta family. They came into my room that night and --. Well, they took turns --.” Sophie stopped. She’d never been able to say the words, even to her mother after it happened. She somehow thought if she never said it, she could pretend it never happened. 

But it had happened. And she’d lived with it for her whole adult life. She’d picked up small pieces of her shattered soul here and there, but she’d never fully healed. She knew now she probably never would. 

“My father’s retaliation is what got him, and my mother, killed four months later,” She said in a whisper, as she felt the tears welling in her eyes. _Fuck! Push it down, Sophie._

She watched as Tommy clenched his jaw, the muscles in his cheek flexing in anger. 

“These are bad men, Tommy,” she added, as the tears betrayed her and rolled down her cheeks. 

“I know,” Tommy responded, his voice almost a whisper now. “They killed my wife.” 

Tommy searched the top of his desk for anything to steal his focus away. He never talked about Grace. It took everything he had to even say her name. He’d lived with an ache in his stomach for close to a year after she died and he could feel that old, familiar pain pushing forth again. 

Tommy cleared his throat and continued. “I also took revenge. We killed Vicente, their patriarch. And now his remaining son has issued us the black hand.”

With that, he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out the card he’d shown to his family a few days before. He handed it to Sophie. 

“I sent away for that photograph in an attempt to identify that son, Luca,” he said, motioning to the photograph Sophie had found in the morning mail.

She studied it again. “Tommy, I don’t know what Vicente’s sons look like, but I do know their cousins. And they’re in this photograph.” She leaned forward, turned the photo in his direction, and pointed and two men seated in the front row of the wedding party. “Vincenzo and Salvatore,” she said, moving her finger between the men in the image.

Tommy sat with this new information for a moment before he opened another desk drawer and removed a revolver. He stood from his desk and checked that the gun was loaded. 

“Follow me,” he said as he moved toward the door, stopping only to grab his coat off the rack beside it. 

She did as she was ordered and followed him, nervous about the weapon he now brandished so publicly. He already wore one handgun in his shoulder holster. Sophie couldn’t decide why he felt the need to usher her through the office with another in hand. 

He paused at the back door of the waiting area and placed his coat on Sophie’s shoulders. A swath of cool air and morning sun washed into the room as he pushed open the heavy door. It revealed a small courtyard she hadn’t realized was there. 

Tommy found three glass bottles on the ground and set them up along a fence at the opposite side of the courtyard. When he was finished, he handed the revolver to Sophie.

“Show me,” was all the direction he provided, as he took a step back. 

It was a test. She said she knew how to shoot a gun and he wanted her to prove it. 

It had been a long time since she’d held a firearm. Once, in France, she picked the rifle off a fallen soldier and fled behind the lines when a sudden attack on the auxiliary regime caught them off guard. She hadn’t fired it, but it felt familiar and comforting to carry it for a few hours, even after the fighting ended as quickly as it began. That was the last time she’d held a gun, though, and she hadn’t had plans to ever pick one up again.

Sophie flipped open and rolled the cylinder slowly, ensuring the gun was loaded. She took mental note of the weight of the gun, as she moved it from her left to her right hand. Giving Tommy one more glance, she pulled back the hammer, and took quick aim at the first bottle. Shattering it with the first shot, she quickly cocked and fired the gun twice more in rapid succession, successfully hitting all three targets. Slowly, she turned, and handed the gun back to Tommy, watching his face carefully.

He simply raised his hands in response. “It’s yours,” he said. 

Sophie hesitated, but only for a moment. She knew how to shoot, but she didn’t own a weapon. The Changretta family was in Birmingham, she needed a way to protect herself. And while she trusted Tommy, she wasn’t family and was sure he’d choose them over her if forced to do so. Sophie had to protect herself. _Take it Sophie, don’t be stupid._

“Shoulder or garter?” Tommy asked, pulling her back to reality. “For the holster?” He motioned at the revolver she still held out from her body, as if it were a hand grenade missing it’s firing pin, ready to explode at any moment. 

“Uh, garter,” she replied, letting her arms fall to her sides, still acutely aware of the weapon in her hand.

Tommy reached into a large crate next to the back door of the office and dug out a holster. He held it up, eyeing it’s size, and determined it would fit her before he moved closer and handed it to Sophie.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as she took it in her empty hand.

It was all too much--the photo, the gun. The unrelenting, breathtaking, sickening fear. Her mouth went dry and she felt tears begin to well again in her eyes, but she pushed them down as quickly as they formed. _You can do this, Sophie._ She feared the anxiety she’d experienced after her rape and her parents’ death would return. It’d taken her years to adjust to it, the constant fear eventually becoming a companion during the most unsettling and lonely nights of the war. But in the years since, she’d let it go, little by little.

He closed the space between them with one more step, reached his hand up and stroked the apple of her cheek. Sophie leaned into his touch, finding some comfort in the warmth of his hand and his steady breathing. 

“I should be thanking you,” he said. “Before today, I only had a name.” He paused until she looked into his eyes. “But now I know his face.”

Sophie nodded. 

Tommy hesitated and held her gaze a few moments longer. When he eventually pulled away and headed back toward the door, he added, “Wear that at all times.” 

Sophie nodded in response again looking down at the gun and holster in her hands--symbols of a shift in the tides of her life, but one in a direction all too familiar. 

“Fuck,” she replied in a whisper, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking it out for three chapters! More to come!
> 
> As always, feedback is very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie bonds with the rest of the Shelby clan and begins to question her relationship with Tommy.

“Well, I’m horribly underdressed,” Sophie whispered as she sat down across from Ada in the tearoom. Her new friend just smiled in return--she wouldn’t dare criticize Sophie’s dress. Besides, she looked perfectly put together, even if a little casual for afternoon tea.

The table between them was adorned with lace cloth, fine china, and real silver tableware. It was the finest setting Sophie had ever seen and she was fully enamored by it; that is, until she spotted the food. Small cakes, dainty sandwiches, scones, and biscuits piled high on a silver tiered stand. It all made her mouth water.

The tea, on the other hand, just made her nervous. 

In all these years in England, Sophie never acquired a taste for tea. The fact that she was now expected to partake in it with propriety during public ritual put her a bit on edge, as she didn’t want to offend anyone--least of all Ada. In fact, Sophie desperately wanted to impress her.

“I’m glad you could meet me here. I’ve been dying to get together since Polly told me all about you,” Ada said, looking Sophie up and down with a faint smile. 

She hadn’t spent much time with Polly, but Sophie could only imagine what she may have said about her. Polly had spent a lot of time in the office lately, and while the two women had shared a few stories, they mainly bonded over snarky jokes and a mutual teasing of Tommy.

“Oh no, what did she say?” Sophie asked through a smile.

Ada dispelled her fears. “Just that you’re smart and kind, and not afraid to put my brother in his place.”

Ada’s smile was so genuine, it caught Sophie a bit off guard. She hadn’t seen such a freely happy smile on anyone, let alone a Shelby, since the morning she’d accepted the job. They had _all_ been so consumed by the threat hanging over them, it’s almost like they’d forgotten _how_ to smile--Sophie included. 

“She said you chided Tommy for feeling sorry for himself. I can’t tell you how much he needs that,” Ada added, pouring tea from the ornate teapot that’d been placed between them on the table.

Ada passed the teapot over to Sophie. “Well, to be fair he did ask me to always be honest; so as far as I see it, it’s his own fault,” she laughed and caused the tea to slosh out of her small cup, leaving tiny droplets to stain the tablecloth.

“Our Tommy does have a tendency for self-loathing. He occasionally requires a bit of work, you know, to snap him back to reality--something that hasn’t come quite as regularly in the last year or so.” She added, “You know, he’s lucky to have you, I think.”

Sophie smiled at Ada’s use of ‘our Tommy.’ She knew Tommy had family, of course. She’d met most of them at least once and heard him speak of Charlie on several occasions. He’d even mentioned Grace. But, the idea of Tommy being considered so warmly seemed strange to her. He wasn’t cruel--she knew what that looked like, and it wasn’t Tommy--but she’d only known a hardened side of the man and couldn’t imagine him being particularly soft or loving. Even with his family. 

“Polly also said you remind her of our mother,” Ada added, looking over her cup.

Sophie nearly choked on the sip she’d just taken. “Oh yeah, how so?”

“Well, I was so young when she passed that I don’t really remember her. I suppose that’s why I wanted so badly to spend some time with you.” Ada paused, thinking about her limited memories of her mother. “I’m not sure what Polly meant,” she added, forcing a smile.

“Well that’s alright. I’m not sure I want to know,” Sophie laughed, relaxing a bit.

They sat quietly for a few moments, each woman deep in thought. 

Ada considered her new friend and how well she fit the Shelby clan--how grateful she was that Sophie was there in the office each day, keeping watch over Tommy. 

Sophie thought about the tea, and how she wished it were coffee instead.

“What was your mother like?” Ada finally asked, resuming conversation.

“Well, she never wanted to be a mother. I only ever remember her being sad.” She studied a scone but decided she better wait for Ada’s cue to eat. “I think she was resentful that she didn’t get to live the life she wanted,” Sophie said sadly.

“And what life was that?” Ada asked.

“I actually have no idea--only that it wasn’t the one she had. She married my father out of necessity. Out of convenience. She agreed to have one child, but ended up with twins.”

“You’re a twin?” Ada asked, finally taking a sandwich off the platter.

“Mmm. Yes.” Sophie responded, “Henry, my brother, died in the war.”

Ada studied her face as Sophie finally picked up the scone she’d been eyeing. She was close with her own siblings but couldn’t imagine the bond between twins. Even considering how close they were, each Shelby child was also fiercely independent. They supported one another, but they had all become their own people. They’d all experienced the phases of life separate from one another. Had all grown into their own in interesting ways, influenced by one another, but not sharing in the experience in the way she imagined Henry and Sophie had. 

“You know, the Gypsies believe twins are empathic--that they can feel one another’s pain.” Ada said, “My aunt would probably say you have special abilities.”

Sophie chuckled. “My father believed that too,” she said. “He wasn’t a cruel man, but he wasn’t kind either. I think it would have been worse for me if he hadn’t been constantly worried Henry would feel it. I suppose I should be grateful for that at least.”

Again, the two women settled into a comfortable silence as they sipped their tea and picked at the spread. They eventually spoke a bit more about the Shelby family, Sophie’s life in America, and the war. Before they'd known it, they'd sat so long talking that the tea had gone cold and most the other patrons had emptied out of the large, ornate room.

“I remember feeling so lucky they all came back,” Ada said of her brothers. She reached her hand across the small table to hold Sophie’s. “I'm so sorry you lost your brother.”

Sophie nodded and gave her a smile. 

“Come to The Garrison tonight. The whole family will be there.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Sophie responded.

“You’re not imposing if I invite you, Sophie. Besides, you need a family and we have a big one.”

Sophie smiled.

“You hate it don’t you?” Ada asked, nodding toward Sophie’s mostly full cup of cold tea, long ago neglected.”

“I’m afraid I never found a taste for it,” Sophie said. 

“Add a little of this. It’ll help,” Ada said as she reached across the table, the smile on her face growing wider, and handed Sophie a flask of whiskey.

* * *

Tommy checked his pocket watch for the third time in five minutes. He seemed perpetually disappointed that time didn’t move any faster than it did. His family seemed happy enough, out enjoying their old haunts, but every public space would only cause Tommy anxiety until this business with Changretta was over.

And then Sophie arrived.

She spotted him across the pub, finishing a drink at the bar. Feeling confident for the first time in weeks, she took the opportunity to surprise him. She approached from behind, poked a couple of fingers in his back, and whispered in the most convincing Italian accent she could muster, “Maybe I should take you out right here, Shelby.”

Tommy, being Tommy, reacted immediately by reaching behind his back to grab her wrist and spin her around. He pressed her against the bar, one hand on her neck, the other anchoring his weight against her and propped on the edge of the bar. 

“Jesus, Tommy, lighten up,” she said through a smirk. She turned her head to face Harry behind the bar and ordered two whiskeys.

Tommy didn’t move until the drinks arrived, placing both hands on the bar on either side of her and hanging his head slightly. When it arrived, Tommy raised his glass swiftly and swallowed the whole drink at once. He slammed the empty glass back on the bar and finally leaned against it beside her, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

Sophie sipped her drink as she watched him roll the cigarette between his lips back and forth, lighting it only after he was satisfied with the way it fit. She stared at those lips, full and pink but hardened and determined.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” she said, unable to pull her stare from his mouth.

Tommy just replied in a grunt as he sparked his cigarette, eyebrow raised. 

They stood this way, shoulders touching, both leaning with backs against the bar, as the silence comfortably fell between them.

Tommy was the first to break it as he cleared his throat and said, “You look nice tonight.” 

It was completely out of character for her to worry so much about her appearance--something almost unfair for a woman so naturally beautiful--but nonetheless, she had taken the time to attend to every last detail, including a bright red lip and two coats of mascara. 

Her cheeks flushed and she smiled, grateful for the compliment.

“Have you danced yet?” he asked.

Sophie looked down at her drink, “No, but I would if you asked me.” 

“Dance with me,” he said as he held out one hand and extinguished his cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the bar.

“That’s not asking,” she replied, taking the last sip of her drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. “But --” She nodded and took his hand anyway. They walked out onto the floor. Just as he moved to place his arm around her back, the music slowed.

“Oh, the music’s gone soft,” she said, turning to face the band. 

“I prefer it this way,” Tommy replied, pulling her in closer.

And then, Tommy smiled. It wasn’t his typical smirk, but a full smile--a rarity, Sophie observed. A smile he reserved for only a few people, and even then, only a few situations. Sophie felt the blush bloom wider across her face, the heat rising in her cheeks. If Tommy saw it, he chose to ignore it.

They danced quietly for one full song, but as the second started up, so did the conversation. 

“My family seems quite taken with you,” Tommy said.

“They're lovely,” Sophie replied, glancing at the Shelby clan gathered around the table in the corner of the room. “Tommy, I’m not sure how I could ever thank you. These last few weeks,” she stammered, looking up to make eye contact with him.

“They were nothing,” he answered.

“That's not true. It's been--”

“Easy--” he cut her off. “--it’s been easy. Making you happy”

She wasn’t sure what to say in return, so she held her tongue and tried to keep her heart from racing. Just then, as if right on cue, the music picked up tempo again and Arthur tapped his brother on the shoulder, “Mind if I cut in, Tommy?” 

“By all means,” Tommy answered, placing Sophie’s hand in his brother’s.

He took one last glance at her, eyes piercing through her as they so often did, unnerving her, then he headed back to his perch at the bar. 

Arthur spun Sophie around before she could utter a single word and she found herself happily moving about the room, thoughts reeling in time with the music.

* * *

Arthur danced her around the pub until she grew dizzy. The alcohol, the heat in the Garrison, and the spinning all went straight to her head. When the song ended, they returned to Polly and Linda who sat around the table in the corner. Sophie begged Linda to have her baby soon, claiming she couldn’t stand any more dances with her husband. Linda just laughed in response, joking that Sophie wasn’t off the hook that easy--she’d be sure Sophie continued to dance with him even after the baby came, then asked Arthur to take her home. 

The group watched them make their way toward the door. 

Looking at Polly, Sophie asked, “Do you think we'll ever find a love like that?”

“I'm sure of it,” Polly responded, adding, “We’re the two best catches in Birmingham after all”

As she returned to the table with a fresh drink, Ada butted into the conversation, “And what am I, chopped liver?”

“You're the catch of _London_ , dear” Polly replied through her sly smile. 

“And good thing,” Sophie said, “I don’t think I could handle the competition if you lived in Birmingham all the time.”

Ada stifled a laugh, nearly spewing her drink across the table. “You don’t have to worry about me,” She scoffed, “it's my brother who's in love with _you_ ”

And with that, Sophie’s heart fell to her stomach. “What?”

“We’ve all noticed the way he looks at you” Ada added, slightly slurring her words now. _She must be drunk_ , Sophie thought. 

“Tommy and I are friends,” She retorted, sharply. 

“Tommy Shelby has never been friends with a woman,” Ada teased. 

Sweat broke out on her hands and chest as Sophie’s heart rate climbed. Tommy couldn’t be in love with her, could he? Certainly they got along, maybe even shared a bond, but she’d just assumed it was friendship. 

Then again, she’d never been in love. She couldn’t fathom what it looked and felt like. She cared for Tommy, and he seemed to care for her, but nothing had gone any farther than two friends telling stories and sharing pieces of their lives. 

They’d only known one another less than two months.

But why had she blushed while they danced earlier? What had he said that had made her feel embarrassed? _Was that embarrassment? Was it something else?_

Polly could sense the apprehension on her face. “You alright, love?” she asked. 

“I, um--” Sophie stammered, “I think I just need some air.” 

With that, she stood from her chair and hurried out the back of the pub and into the alley, ignoring Tommy’s eyes following her the whole way.

* * *

The night air was so crisp it almost knocked her back as she flung open the backdoor of the pub. She faltered a bit, having to catch her balance on a stack of crates just outside the door. But as it swung closed and drowned out the noise from the patrons inside, she finally felt a bit of relief and could consider Ada’s theory more carefully.

She’d spent the last few years lonely--not for romance, necessarily, but for any kind of connection with another person. Henry was the only real family she’d ever had. The only love she’d ever shared was with her brother, and their bond was broken when he died. She’d buried herself in the work until the end of the war, not caring whether she survived or not, knowing she had nothing to which to return. When she did make it, in the end, she’d found herself so horribly alone. She’d barely made it by, seeking something she wasn’t sure she’d ever find, until she met John that night in the very pub she was now running from.

What she did know was this: Tommy had helped fill the void in her heart, but she couldn’t fill the void in his. She could never replace Grace--even if he was in love with her, it’d never be what he’d had before. And she could never be a wife. A mother. She just knew she didn't have it in her. 

She fumbled in her handbag for her cigarette case when the man’s voice pulled her back to the present “Hey Miss. Miss, I need help.” He groaned, stumbling toward her. 

Sophie turned to face the stranger, trying to quickly assess what may be wrong with him, when someone grabbed her from behind. The man she was facing quickly ran toward her, but picked up her legs instead of helping. It had been a ruse. 

The man holding her legs felt her garter holster and removed the gun, throwing it to the ground as they carried her down the alley. Sophie riled and kicked as best she could. She tried to scream, but the man behind her had his hand over her mouth.

Before she could truly assess what was happening, she’d been violently flung into the backseat of a car which took off down the street connecting the alley. Struggling to find anything to stabilize herself, Sophie finally grabbed hold of the seat itself and was able to pull herself up into a seated position. She finally took in her surroundings and that’s when she realized who was seated next to her. 

Luca Changretta.

“Bella,” he said, stroking her cheek and readjusting the toothpick in his mouth, “Let’s go for a drive. Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie gets dragged deeper into the feud between families. Tommy vows his revenge.

Tommy watched her rush out of the pub, but fought the urge to follow after her. Clearly she was escaping something.

He looked to the table where Sohpie had been sitting with his aunt and sister. Ada had already moved on to another conversation with some man standing in the corner, but Polly met his eyes when Tommy turned in her direction. She gave him a knowing look and just shrugged her shoulders.

Placing his drink on the bar and grabbing his jacket off the stool, Tommy headed out after her. Sophie shouldn’t be alone in a dark alley, even on their own turf, not with Changretta’s men lurking about. She could get her peace and quiet somewhere else.

“Where’d Sophie get to?” Arthur asked as he brushed passed, but Tommy just ignored him. A sickening feeling rose in his stomach as he hurried toward the door.

He pushed it open to find the alley deserted. No one, not even a lousy drunk from the pub, occupied the street. He saw no immediate sign of her. He called her name quietly and got no answer. But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw it. A glint of something metal reflecting from a few feet away. 

It was the revolver he’d given her. 

He tried to control the terrible scenarios that began to play in his head. He pushed down the stories she'd told him, what'd happened to her before--Luca's cousins. He began to panic, turning in circles, looking for anything to ground him.

Then he spotted her cigarette case. Her purse, a few more feet away, it’s contents strewn about leading him down the alley and toward the road.

But no Sophie.

Sophie was gone.

* * *

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, looking out of the window and hoping she’d have a chance to make a run for it.

“I told you, we’re going for a ride. I just want to have a little chat,” Luca answered, moving his hand to her thigh. 

She recoiled at his touch, disgusted. _Not again,_ she thought. _Not another fucking Changretta. Not again._ Bile rose in her throat and she felt herself on the verge of choking. She felt the blood drain from her face, fully prepared to faint. 

“Tsk, tsk,” Luca responded, satisfied to put her in her place. “I don’t play with my food before a meal. Besides, I wouldn’t want Tommy Shelby’s leftovers.”

She opened her mouth to correct him but thought better of it. _As long as he thinks I'm with Tommy, he won't touch me._

“So, what is it you want to chat about?” She asked, trying to control the tremble in her voice.

Luca just looked her over, that condescending smile growing on his lips. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asked.

Sophie nodded, pushing back the thoughts of his cousins. He seemed larger, but had similar features--frighteningly familiar, but also different. More controlled. More resolute on revenge. More dangerous. 

“Good, good.” He removed the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it out the window then he tapped the driver on the shoulder, prompting him to pull over. He and the other man who’d abducted her let themselves out and moved to wait outside, leaning against a wall in the dark, just far enough to keep the car in view, but not so close that they would look suspicious. 

Luca began to outline his plan. 

She carefully controlled her breathing as she kept her head turned from him. She tried to focus on the men outside of the car. They laughed. They playfully shoved one another, their voices rising and falling as they cut up. She couldn’t understand what they said, both because of they spoke Italian and because the windows muffled their conversation; but she was certain they hadn’t thought twice about having just abducted a woman. They were part of the Changretta organization--surely it wasn’t the worst thing they’d done. 

“Do we understand one another?” Luca asked her, after a few moments. 

She just nodded, turning her head back to face him, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

He whistled, a cue that brought the men to the car and set them on course back toward the pub. 

“Good. And don’t forget who you work for.” 

* * *

Sophie hit the cobbled street before she could process that she’d actually been thrown from the car. A deafening ring hit hear ears as soon as she made contact with the ground, followed by a pounding that she only later realized was her own heartbeat. For a moment she couldn’t hear anything else. She remained in the position in which she’d landed--on her side with her knees pulled to her chest and her head tucked between them--too afraid to move. Her hands had instinctively rose to cover her head, although it’d hit the bricks anyway, the pain flooding her mind and blood flooding her hair. 

That’s when she heard someone calling her name. 

It was Tommy, his voice growing louder as he approached her. He must have slid on the ground beside her, because before she could even register his footsteps he had pulled her hands from her head and was searching her eyes.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sophie,” he said. “Are you alright?” He looked her over, but couldn't tell where the blood was coming from. Instinctively, he pulled her into his chest but Sophie's muscles wouldn’t relax.

“Arthur!” Tommy yelled back down the alley. “Arthur, get Polly!”

Tommy stood, scooping Sophie into his arms as he rose. Only then did she move her hands from her head to hold him tight, burying her face in his neck--his familiar scent of tobacco and leather the only thing that seemed to relax her.

Arthur made way for Tommy as he returned through the backdoor of The Garrison, Sophie wrapped up in his arms. He marched straight to the snug and sat her on the booth. The commotion in the pub was white noise to her--all Sophie could hear was the beating of her own heart and Tommy’s gentle and deep brum, although she couldn’t be sure what he was saying. Polly appeared with a wet cloth and began to wipe her face, but Sophie could barely see her. It was as if her vision had blurred--it was impossible to focus. John was yelling in the main room, trying to rid the pub of its customers, while Tommy, Polly, and Arthur fussed over Sophie. She couldn’t find the words to answer their onslaught of questions and instead dropped her head in her hands trying to hold back the tears. 

That’s when Polly stood and ordered everyone out. Sophie needed space. She needed to calm down, to process, and she couldn’t do that with everyone hovering over her. 

The two women sat in silence and after a few minutes Sophie’s heart rate and hearing returned to normal. She lifted her head to make eye-contact with Polly, who’s own eyes welled with tears. She pushed them back in her throat as she took Sophie’s hand.

“Who was it, Sophie?”

She hesitated, wondering if she should be truthful.

“We can’t help you if we don’t know, love,” Polly added

Sophie shook her head, ever so slightly, a gesture Polly would have missed if she hadn’t been watching so carefully.

“It's too late,” Sophie whispered.

“Luca Changretta?” Polly asked. But she didn't need an answer. She knew. “Did he-- Did he force himself on you?” 

Sophie shook her head.

“Oh thank god,” Polly whispered, making the sign of the cross in response.

Then, quickly, as if talking would make it better, she added, “We’ll get you cleaned up, dear. You’ll stay with me at the Watery Lane house tonight. We can talk this through tomorrow. You’re probably exhausted.”

Sophie said nothing as Polly cleaned up the mess on the table and gathered their things. She listened to Polly go on about what they’d do to make it right, knowing very well there was nothing to be done. Either way, she appreciated the kindness. 

Polly opened the door and motioned for John to fetch their coats. As he did, Tommy moved quickly toward the door, but Polly stopped him. He just watched her from the door frame. His heart breaking to watch her anguish. 

“Not now,” was all Polly said and he backed down, letting them leave the pub with Ada in tow.

* * *

Tommy closed the door behind them and turned to face his brothers. They exchanged looks across the awkward silence, each one, no doubt, with their own ideas of what had transpired. 

As he moved to light the cigarette hanging from his lips, he realized his hands were shaking. He couldn’t let Arthur and John see, so he quickly extinguished the match and placed his hands in his pockets. 

He'd promised her. Told her he wouldn't let this happen. Assured her she'd be safe as long as she wore that revolver and stayed within earshot of the Peaky Blinders at all times. And now he'd failed her. Just like he'd failed so many others. Just like he'd failed Grace.

“Changretta?" John asked. 

Tommy just nodded, holding the cigarette in its place. He took a long drag, removed the cigarette from his lips and tilted his face upward, toward the ceiling, closing his eyes. 

“Fuck!” Arthur exclaimed. 

“Let me at him,” John said, nostrils flaring.

Tommy snapped his head forward and pointed at John with his cigarette.

“No. When it’s time to put a bullet between his eyes, it will be me who does it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one here. 
> 
> As always, feedback is welcome!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy, as usual, begins to spiral. Sophie, as expected, struggles with her feelings.

Tommy entered the Watery Lane house to find it quiet and assumed everyone to be in bed. He removed his heavy coat and sat at the table in the parlor, pouring himself another glass of whiskey--the effects of his previous ones well worn off by now. 

The sickness in the pit of his stomach, the way his heart felt heavy in his chest, his mind racing with too many thoughts he couldn’t control, the sweat on his palms--all of it he’d felt before, but it’d been so long he’d almost forgotten what it was. 

Fear.

He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“She’s alright,” Polly said, entering the parlor. 

She sat across from him at the round table and lit herself a cigarette. Following suit, Tommy removed one from the case in his jacket pocket but he neglected to light it immediately. He sat expressionless, holding a box of matches with one hand and tapping his fingers on the table with the other until Polly broke the silence.

“She’s strong, that one.”

“I know,” he replied, still not lighting the cigarette. Polly noticed that he hadn’t and held a lit match out in front of him.

That wasn’t the problem. He knew Sophie was strong. He’d spent enough time with her to know what she’d been through. She was a bit cracked and Tommy didn’t want to see her fully break. 

No, that wasn’t the problem. But he wasn’t quite sure what was. 

Polly took one last drag of her cigarette before moving to head upstairs. 

“I put her in your old room. She’s probably sound asleep by now,” she said. “You should get some rest, too. Go home. We can sort it all out in the morning” 

Polly placed a hand on his shoulder before she left the room. 

* * *

“Thomas! It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning, to what do I owe this right fuckin’ pleasure, mate?!” Alfie asked, feigning surprise but more alert than Tommy had expected when he called.

“There's been a change in plan,” was all he said in response.

“And what might have prompted this?”

Tommy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Was it that assistant of yours?” Alfie asked. 

Half in shock and half annoyed that Alfie seemed to already know, Tommy said nothing. He’d already let his guard down too much and needed to be careful about his next move. 

“You called me, mate. If you’ve got something to say, then, now’s the time to say it,” Alfie added.

“What have you heard?” Tommy finally asked. If Alfie knew something he wouldn’t offer it voluntarily. Tommy would need to pry it out of him.

“Oh, you know, just that she arrived the same day as that lovely card you received. Interesting coincidence, if you ask me. Not that you did. You really do hold it all right next to the vest, huh?”

Alfie was rambling now and Tommy took the opportunity to sort through this. Sophie _had_ arrived the same day as the black hand. He knew that, of course, but didn’t want to think they may be connected. He’d considered it in those early days, but he’d put it out of his mind--letting his fascination with her cloud his better judgement. 

But in the time he’d known her she’d given him no reason to mistrust her. 

_Why should I think these are related and not isolated coincidences?_

But isolated coincidences didn’t exist in his world.

Alfie fell quiet now, recognizing that Tommy’s mind was spinning on the other end of the phone. Tommy didn’t have to say a word--Alfie knew him well enough to know he'd taken the bait.

“Well, meet tomorrow to discuss the details,” Tommy said, hanging up the phone before Alfie had the chance to respond. 

* * *

She heard Tommy knock as she was fastening the last buttons on his old shirt. Having nothing else to wear, she had rummaged through his old dresser and found several of his old things. She picked out a light blue button up, thinking of how it must complement his eyes. She eased it on over her slip, immediately appreciating the warmth it gave her. 

“Come in,” she said.

Tommy slowly peeked his head in the door, wanting to ensure she was dressed before he entered. 

Sophie sat on the side of the bed and rubbed her hands together. Unsure of how she should be feeling with Luca’s instructions replaying in her mind. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” she held her arms out, nodding down toward the shirt. “It’s really all I could find.”

Tommy sat down beside her, trying to ignore how lovely she looked in his shirt.

“I think it'd be best if you come to Arrow House,” he said. “Just until all of this settles down. I know it’s not idea--.”

“That's fine,” Sophie interrupted. He'd clearly been expecting a fight, but she wasn't up for it.

She searched his face for any insight as to what he was thinking, but his piercing blue eyes just stared back at her--through her, almost. She’d found Tommy attractive since the day she met him, but she'd never stared at him as openly as she now did. She noted the stubble now evident on his chin, his sharp cheekbones casting shadows on his jawline, a small patch of grey peaking through the buzzed sides of his haircut. Earlier tonight she’d considered her feelings for him--trying to determine whether it was friendly admiration or something more. Now, she considered whether or not she could betray him. 

He swallowed and she watched his Adam's apple bounce in his throat. 

_“Don’t forget who you work for.”_ Luca’s voice echoed in her mind.

“You can get some of your things tomorrow,” he added.

Seeming uneasy with her gaze, Tommy placed his hands on his knees and lifted himself off the bed. As he made his move toward the door, he looked back over his shoulder and quietly said, “Good night, Sophie. Try to get some sleep.”

* * *

As happy as she was to have Tommy sleeping right next door, she’d never felt so far away from him. In their brief interaction since returning to the house, she had felt him pushing away from her. Maybe whatever Ada thought to be happening between them never was. Or maybe he was suspicious of her.

Sid didn’t want to wonder about it anymore. She rose from the bed, wrapped the quilt around her shoulders, and padded quietly the short distance to the room where he slept. 

Letting her knuckles barely tap the wood, she knocked as lightly as she could.

“Yeah,” he said from the other side of the door after clearing his throat--his voice almost meek.

Sophie turned the knob and let herself in.

Tommy sat on the edge of his bed, elbows propped on his knees, head resting in his hands. He’d only raised his eyes to look in her direction, but when he saw it was Sophie, he stood. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the concern heavy in his voice. 

Sophie’s words caught in her throat as she was suddenly aware of how inappropriate her visit must seem.

“Nothing,” she said. “Everything’s fine. That’s not why I’m here.” She managed a weak smile. 

Tommy’s frame visibly relaxed a bit, but he remained guarded still unaware of what Sophie wanted.

“It’s just--” she stammered. “It’s just that, I’m not going to be able to sleep.” He stared at her, not breaking his intimidating gaze while extenguising his cigarette. But he said nothing.

“The room is cold and I--” she realized she was on the verge of crying and forced the tears back down. 

Tommy interrupted, “I’d be happy to switch rooms with you.” 

It was an earnest offer. He genuinely thought what she wanted, what she needed, was a different cold and lonely bed. 

“Can I sleep with you?” she asked after a brief hesitation. 

With an almost imperceptible flinch, Tommy swallowed. She’d taken him off guard, something she’d never seen before. 

“I, um--” He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. 

She just stared into the clear blue eyes, resolved not to waiver. He must have sensed her disappointment because Tommy turned his body and motioned toward the bed. 

And with that, her heart raced so quickly, she almost dropped to the floor. Sophie removed the quilt from her shoulders and laid it across the foot of the bed. She caught him looking at her as she moved, but climbed into the bed anyway, taking the side closest to the wall. She thought she’d feel safer with the wall on one side and Tommy on the other. She lay on her side and pulled the covers up to her chest as she watched Tommy remove his button up, which she now realized had been stained with her blood. She admired his strong frame through the thin cotton of his undershirt, but he turned off the lamp and climbed in beside her before she could properly take him in. 

Sophie smiled thinking he was so concerned with chastity that he refused to sleep comfortably in her presence. When her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she turned to admire him laying flat on his back with one hand behind his head. His eyes were wide open and fixed on something on the ceiling--their bright blue almost glowing in the dark. Her heart still beat hard in her chest, but she couldn’t deny how lying here beside him was instantly comforting. 

“Sophie, I'm so sor--” he started, in a whisper.

“Don't,” Sophie said, before he could finish. “I don't want pity. Especially not from you.” The most painful part of this whole ordeal was the thought that he might see her as weak.

He seemed to understand. 

“I just want to sleep,” she told him. 

Sophie closed her eyes and they lay in silence for several minutes. She was surprised by his touch when he reached his solid arm around her back and pulled her toward him. Slowly, she buried her face in his neck. She breathed in the smell of him, leather and cigarettes, and smiled. 

Tommy said nothing else and just held her as she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Tommy woke, as usual, before the sun had fully risen. The soft light, just making its way into the room, fell gracefully on Sophie’s face. At some point in the night they’d shifted and she now lay with her head on his chest, his arm wrapped beneath her. He could feel her breath, warm and sweet, on his skin, the gentle rise of her breathing, her breasts pressed softly into his ribs. Her leg had intertwined with his, wrapped around his knee and calf. She shifted and let out a soft moan as she moved her hand along his chest and down to his waist. 

If things were different, he’d stay in bed with her all day--just to watch her breath, hear her delicate sighs as she dreamed, feel her warm skin pressed to his in ways he’d only dreamed of. 

But he couldn’t stay. 

Tommy cleared his throat softly. 

She sat up and quickly pulled the covers to her chin, suddenly realizing how indecent the situation seemed. She was only wearing her thin slip, sometime in the night having removed his shirt when the bed grew too warm. Tommy too, had shed his shirt, both of them opting to remove clothing instead of giving up the warmth of their embrace. She’d been unabashedly curled around him.

“Jesus, Tommy, I’m sorry,” she said, covering her face with one hand hand holding the blankets to her chest with the other. 

“That’s alright,” he responded as he swung his legs around her and placed his feet to the floor. He rose and began to gather his things and redress. 

“You need your shirt,” she said, reaching for the shirt she’d gone to bed in. Sophie stepped toward him holding it out to help him dress. “You can’t wear that one,” she added, pointing to the shirt soiled with her blood. He turned and let her button it for him. She was right. The shirt only intensified the steel blue of his eyes. 

When she finished, he tucked in the shirt and removed his vest, coat, and holster from the back of the chair. They didn’t speak as he finished dressing for the day and left for his meeting with Alfie.

As he walked down the hall, Tommy realized his shirt now smelled like her--that same sweet, floral scent that he still couldn’t place. 

Tommy took a deep breath to savor it, hoping to keep a piece of her with him all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love, folks! Feedback always appreciated!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie struggles to find a "new normal," but Tommy finally admits his feelings (to himself, at least).

The car moved along the road at a quick pace, but not one so fast that Sophie couldn’t enjoy the sights of the countryside. They had been on the road for about twenty minutes, just Sophie and Tommy, and neither had said a word, so it startled her when Tommy was the first to break the silence.

“Before I take you to my home, where my son lives, I need to be sure,” he said.

Sophie immediately knew what he meant. “You don't trust me,” she responded.

Tommy thought about that a moment--he’d thought about that all day, in fact--and concluded that wasn’t quite right. “I don't trust Changretta.”

“But you think he got to me.”

“I think he tried,” Tommy said, glancing away from the road to read her face.

It was Sophie’s turn to think about her response. She, too, had been considering it all day. On the one hand, Luca had made it perfectly clear what he intended to do if she refused to help him. On the other hand, she had no reason to fear for her life. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t worth saving.

But perhaps the real reason she decided to deny him access to the Shelby family was Tommy himself. Despite his hardened exterior and ruthless reputation, he’d shown her incredible kindness in the previous weeks. And now, he was taking her to his home--as he’d said, where his son lived--in order to keep her safe. She owed him the truth.

So she shared it. She told him of Luca’s plan to throw him over. How he was prepared to catch Tommy off guard one afternoon leaving the office. How he was ready to follow and ambush him in a secluded part of town. And how Luca needed her to be his eyes. To deliver Tommy on that afternoon. To ensure he got in his car alone and headed in the right direction, none the wiser.

She could see the gears of Tommy’s mind spinning as he took in this information. He was already devising a counter attack.

They sat quietly for a few more moments until the car turned into the small lane leading to Arrow House. 

The home came into full view and Sophie couldn’t help but smile. It was so clearly Tommy’s home. Grand and flashy, but dark and mysterious. She was already imagining the darkened hallways adorned with art Tommy neither selected nor cared for, but somehow felt it advanced his status and signified importance. 

“I smelled like you all day today,” he said, keeping his focus on the road ahead.

Sophie just turned to look at him, not understanding what he meant.

“The shirt, it smelled like you all day,” he said in response to her questioning look.

“Oh,” was all Sophie could muster. She wasn’t sure if he was upset by this or not--his face remained the same stoic, expressionless stone he used to conduct business.

“I’m--I’m sorry,” she finally said, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t be,” is all he said in reply as they pulled into the drive.

* * *

Tommy asked Frances to drop Sophie’s things in the guest room and proceeded to show her around the grounds. “Don’t be shy about asking for anything you need,” he said. “My home is your home.” 

And she knew he meant it.

It took her an hour to choose a dress for dinner, which she recognized as ridiculous. She knew the dinner wouldn’t be formal, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to impress Tommy, no matter how silly it was. She finally settled on the most expensive dress she brought from Small Heath, which still hadn’t cost her much. Tommy had been with some incredibly classy women. Grace, for one, was from a wealthy family back in Ireland, and had grown up around officers and ladies. No doubt she carried herself with a certain elegance that Sophie would never embody. Then again, Tommy himself came from meager beginnings, so in many ways she was well-suited for him regardless of how much she could afford (or not afford) to pay for a dress.

Just as she took one last look in the mirror, she noticed Charlie standing in the doorway--too shy to interrupt her.

“Well hello,” Sophie said, turning and kneeling to his height, “You must be Charlie. I’ve hear an awful lot about you.”

“Daddy says you’re going to live here,” Charlie said, bashfully. 

“Well, I’m going to stay for a little while, yes. Is that okay with you?” she asked him. 

Charlie nodded his head and quickly asked what had clearly been on his mid, “Will you come play with me?” 

“I can’t at the moment, darling. I’m expected downstairs for dinner.” With that response, Sophie could see disappointment forming on his little face. “But I tell you what, how about you come wake me up in the morning, and we’ll do whatever you want for the whole day. How does that sound?” she asked. 

“Can we visit the horses?” Charlie asked.

“Of course!” 

“And you can see Daddy’s _new_ horse!”

“Oh, Daddy has a new horse, does he?”

“Yep! Her name is Belle!” Charlie shouted--excitement clearly returning to him.

Sophie’s breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be a coincidence--surely he’d named the horse for the one she’d been forced to leave behind in America.

“It means ‘beautiful’” Charlie continued, almost faster than Sophie could process what was happening. “It’s France.”

“ _French_ ,” She corrected, sweetly. “It is _French_ and means ‘beautiful,’ you’re absolutely correct.”

“She’s named after her mommy,” Charlie squealed. 

“Hmm,” Sophie nodded, feeling a blush rising to her face.

“Yep. The lady who had her before,” he said. 

Charlie beamed. 

So did Sophie.

Just then, they realized Tommy was standing in the doorway. Sophie had no idea how long he’d been there, but suspected he’d heard most of the conversation giving the smug grin on his face. “Well, I see he found you,” Tommy said, chiding charlie. 

With the hint of a smile, Tommy looked at Charlie, “It’s time to get ready for bed, son. Miss Sophie needs to eat dinner.” 

“G’night Miss Sophie,” Charlie whispered into her neck as he squeezed her tight. 

Sophie smiled and he made his way to the door, only stopping to hug his father’s leg. In the most tender display she’d ever seen him make, Tommy mussed his hair lovingly and winked at him as he ran to meet Frances and get ready for bed.

“Ms. Carlton insisted I name the horse before she’d sell her to me. It was the first thing I could think of,” Tommy said before he turned and led Sophie into the hallway.

* * *

The next morning, Sophie did, in fact, meet Belle. She was a beautiful horse and Sophie could see immediately why Tommy had been drawn to her. The horse seemed to be taken with the woman as well, as she stepped lightly when Sophie approached her stall and lowered her head almost asking her to be pet. Sophie obliged and leaned in close to whisper into her skin. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, that’s it. Even if he didn’t name you for me, let’s pretend you're mine, huh? And I’ll be yours.”

The horse nodded her head, almost as if she understood the secret pact being made, and huffed loudly.

Tommy had insisted she take some time off work hoping she’d find solace at Arrow House. While she appreciated that he wanted her to feel comfortable there, she knew she’d never be able to put the past few days behind her if she didn’t find something akin to normal in her routine. Now, standing with the horse, she was overwhelmed with a need to ride out into the woods--to explore the grounds. She’d been consumed with worry too long and needed some time in the fresh air to slow it all. She knew the sunshine would wash some of the pain that had filled the wounds. 

Using a saddle she found on the wall, Sophie dressed Belle and set off into the rising sun, waving at Johnny Dogs as she passed. 

* * *

The next few days trickled along in much the same pattern. Sophie would wander out in the mornings to visit Belle. Sometimes she went alone, sometimes she took Charlie, but she always spent the better part of the morning in the fields or stables. She was grateful to be out of the smoggy streets of Small Heath, but she was still unsettled. She wasn’t used to being caged in. Sophie knew Tommy wasn’t doing it purposefully, and genuinely thought it was for her own good, but she was growing restless. 

One morning, Tommy stood by the large picture window in the den staring out into the garden behind the house. It’d been long neglected since Grace died, but he hadn’t had the heart to do anything about it. Frances fussed over it for the first year, asking all spring if she should hire a gardener, but Tommy ignored her requests and she eventually let it go. Spring, once again, was in full swing and the garden was filled to the brim with green, flowers and shrubs left to fight the weeds threatening to take over. Boxwoods growing wild and out of shape. Roses so twisted and full he doubted anyone could get past the thorns to take a cutting. 

Roses had been her favorite. He was always certain he’d find them in every room during the season. And while they’d only shared one summer at Arrow House, that summer had been so full of fragrant roses, he was sure the smell would always remind him of Grace.

Out of the corner of his eye, just through some of the most dense growth, he saw Sophie. She was in the garden, though he couldn’t tell what she was doing until she raised up with an armful of cut flowers in the crook of her elbow. She lifted a basket from the ground that was full of the soft pink, white, and purple blooms. She headed back toward the house and he impulsively made his way toward the kitchen to meet her.

He turned the corner to find her there, placing the bounty on the table and removing the gloves she’d been wearing. He could tell now that he was close enough that the flowers were not roses, thankfully, though he didn’t know their variety.

“Frances has been worried about that garden for years,” he said, startling her to a small jump.

Sophie laughed. “Well, everything looks to be healthy. Thriving, really. Sometimes they do best when they’re left to their own devices.”

She didn’t even look his way, she just focused on trimming and shaping the stems, preparing them for arrangements around the house, no doubt. 

“Though it could stand a good weeding,” she continued. 

Tommy walked toward the table and took up a stem. The flower was large, almost as big as his hand. It was perfectly round, like a ball, with delicate petals unfolding from a tight center. And it was fragrant--was it ever fragrant. It smelled sweet and powdery. It smelled warm, clean and feminine. 

It smelled like Sophie. 

This was her scent. He’d been trying to place it since the first time he’d been close enough to notice it, but couldn’t identify it. He’d worn it on his own skin the day he wore the shirt she’d slept in and it had driven him crazy that he didn’t know enough about flowers to place it. But here it was, in pure, floral form. 

“They’re lovely,” he said, placing the bloom back on the table. 

“Like I said, they really do well when they’re allowed to grow a little wild. Like most living things, it’s best not to lord over them too much,” She said with a smirk, fully aware of the dig she’d made at him.

As she finished cleaning up the blooms, she gathered them into the basket once again and turned to leave the kitchen, setting off to place them in the arrangements scattered throughout the house.

“What are they?” Tommy asked, just as she left the room.

“Peonies,” she called back from the hallway.

* * *

Sophie was thankful to return to work the next day. She assumed Polly had spoken with the rest of the family before she arrived, as they all behaved unnaturally ordinary toward her that day but soon enough everything returned to normal in the office. It was still strange riding with Tommy to and from work each day, sharing dinner at his large table, and busying herself with reading, riding, and poking around in the garden of Arrow House when she wasn’t working. They hadn’t returned to the Garrison since the incident almost two weeks ago, and she was thankful no one had asked her to. She was trying her best to put one foot in front of the other, but she had been through enough to know that it just took time and distance to recover. 

What was most difficult, though, was achieving a full night’s sleep. Sophie had been unable to find peaceful rest since the night at No. 6 Watery Lane. She’d tried herbs at Ada’s insistence and whiskey as Arthur suggested, but neither helped. She dozed off each night, but sleep never stayed with her long as she found herself waking often in cold sweats from nightmares, which is why she struggled to stay awake at her desk. 

May Carlton cleared her throat to get Sophie's attention. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sophie said, sitting up straight and trying to compose herself. “You must be Ms. Carlton. He’s expecting you.” Sophie held out her hand to properly introduce herself to the woman, but realized from the look on May’s face that she had no interest in getting to know the assistant. 

She lowered her hand. “I’ll let him know you’re here,” Sophie replied. As she made her way to Tommy’s office, the door flung open quickly. 

“May,” Tommy said, feigning surprise. He backed against the threshold of the door and motioned for May to join him. As he closed the door, he glanced back at Sophie, who tried to smile but found herself yawning wide instead. She thought she shouldn’t sit down and get comfortable as it would be embarrassing to be caught sleeping twice, so she gathered the files on her desk and moved to the cabinet to do some more active work for a while instead. 

* * *

May always seemed to be on the fringes of Tommy’s life. She’d popped back a year or so after Grace passed and would come and go when she felt compelled to do so. There were times he thought she might actually be good for him, but he mostly kept her at arm's length, only really letting her in when he needed a specific kind of satisfaction. Lizzie, and others, were there physically, which was mostly enough. He did, though, find himself needing more from time to time. May was good to provide a closeness, a warmth, he’d been missing since losing his wife.

Now, though, Tommy had no need for that.

“I came to discuss our arrangement with the filly,” May started.

“Hmmm.”

“Do you still want her for your stud? If so, you can bring him to me,” she said, hoping he’d take that as the invitation she’d meant it to be.

Tommy stared straight through her. It was clear his mind was somewhere else.

“I booked that suite you’re always talking about,” May said when she realized Tommy wasn’t going to initiate further conversation. She smiled at him but Tommy didn’t feel the need to reciprocate. 

“I’m afraid it’s not going to happen this time, Ms. Carlton,” Tommy said. Reaching into his case for a cigarette.

She scoffed, “Ms. Carlton? For fuck’s sake, Tommy, since when am I ‘Ms. Carlton’ to you?”

“May--”

“Oh God,” she interrupted. “No, I see what this is. You’ve met someone, haven’t you? You get what you need from me, another fucking horse, and you move on. Again.”

Tommy didn’t know what to say. She was wrong. But she wasn’t entirely wrong. He had met someone. Someone who made him feel things he didn’t think his heart would ever feel again. Things he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel again. Things he’d locked away. 

But May had given him more, too. He’d never seen her as she now implied. 

“May--” 

“No, that’s all I needed,” She said. “It’s over then.” She stood and collected her purse. “If you still want the filly, call the office. We’ll make you a fair price.”

Tommy ran his hand over his face in exasperation. 

May slammed the door behind her.

* * *

“Ms. Carlton,” Sophie called, as May stormed toward the front door. “Do I need to schedule a follow up? Will Mr. Shelby be transporting the horse to you? Or will you be meeting elsewhere?”

May stopped and turned on her heels, letting her eyes finally see Sophie for the first time. “My God. It’s you, isn't it?” She said more than asked.

“I’m sorry?” 

“I heard about what happened with the Italian,” May continued. “What, did you make Tommy feel like a hero again? He saved you, eh? You may as well be another fucking medal.”

Sophie just stared at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

May scoffed and walked toward the door. “He’ll throw you in the cut too, you know,” she said, letting the door slowly close behind her, taking the light from the street with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more fluff before things pick up. 
> 
> As always, feedback is greatly apprecitated!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy advances on Changretta and questions the loyalty of those around him. He and Sophie finally act on what's been bubbling between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's got a touch of smut for ya'll!

“You’re having nightmares?” Tommy asked, placing his newspaper back on the large table and turning to face Sophie.

 _Fuck, Frances must have let it slip_ , she thought. 

Yes, she was having nightmares. In fact, she hadn’t found a solid night’s sleep since she’d been at Arrow House. The last day she remembered waking well-rested was the morning she woke in Tommy’s old bedroom on Watery Lane. Since then, she’d battled string after string of horrible nightmares. She desperately wanted things to return to normal. But even more, she wanted her new family to find happiness. She wanted Tommy to find peace.

After a long silence, Tommy replied, “I struggled to sleep after the war. I always dreamed of being back in the tunnels.”

“How did you get over it?” She asked. “How did you quiet your mind?”

“I didn’t. Just traded the tunnels for other nightmares--fucking Russians, or Italians,” he answered matter-of-factly. 

For the first time since she met him, she’d found something Tommy couldn’t control--his own mind, full of demons, haunted him. Even when he really thought he was doing his best, he questioned it. Even when he thought things were on the upswing, the nightmares of what might go wrong plagued him.

And that was just one more thing they shared in common. 

“You’re not dreaming of Changretta,” he said, somehow piecing together that the problem was different than he’d originally imagined.

Again, Sophie said nothing. She just felt a single tear fall down her cheek and watched as it hit the linen napkin in her lap and spread through the fibers. 

No, it wasn’t Changretta. He scared her, no doubt, but he wasn’t what scared her most. 

“What then?” He asked.

“You” she replied.

He didn’t even flinch. “What am I doing in this dream of yours?” 

“Dying” 

“Sometimes it’s different,” she continued, “but usually you’re standing in a dark hallway, gun drawn, pointing at someone I can’t see. Whoever it is gets their shot off before you and it hits you in the head. Right between those gorgeous blue eyes.” With that, Sophie closed her eyes and let her head fall into her hands. One finger swept her own forehead, between her own eyes, instinctively. 

They sat in silence for a moment, before Sophie realized Tommy was waiting for her to tell him more. 

“You fall to the ground and you’re just--you’re just gone.” She said. “Then I hear a loud, piercing noise."

She looked up at him again but Tommy just stared back at her, unsure of what to say. He didn't show any emotion, but she could sense his concern for her. 

"I only wake up when I realize I'm screaming.”

* * *

“Oh, dear,” Alfie said. “Brother, you've got fucking starlings, mate. You know that? That shit will rot your pipework.” Alfie took out his pistol and began searching the pipework above for the bird. “These bastards only understand one language.”

“It's all right, Alfie,” Tommy said, placing a hand on Alfie’s shoulder to calm him. “There is no need. It's all right, I'm getting a kestrel.”

They walked a little farther into Tommy’s makeshift distillery--a warehouse he’d “acquired” from a businessman who’s business had folded. 

Alfie’s nephew, Goliath, followed them into the space, ducking to avoid a pipe as he entered--too tall for most spaces he was expected to inhabit.

Tommy had invited them to talk business--to discuss his new venture and the purse for Goliath’s upcoming fight. But Tommy really wanted to get a feel for Alfie’s loyalties--to suss out where he stood in the situation with the Italians. He knew Changretta had been to visit Alfie--that he had pressed Alfie to throw Tommy over. It was Alfie who offered to help Tommy best the Italian. Changretta had made an arrangement to export his rum if Alfie agreed to help. 

Alfie had agreed. And had told Tommy as much.

But something had changed. Changretta came for Sophie for a reason--one that Tommy was still trying to understand.

“And what about the Italians, mate. You got a kestrel for them and all?” Alfie asked.

“Yes. I'll have a kestrel for them, as well,” Tommy responded plainly.

He poured a small glass of gin and handed it toward Alfie. It was something he’d been working on for some time and was hoping to push into America. The recipe was the only thing of worth his father left them.

“I know you don't touch it,” he said handing the glass to Alfie, “But you have a good nose.”

He sniffed the glass and tilted it back to admire the color. Alfie put one finger in the liquid, spread it a bit on the back of his hand and sniffed it. He placed the glass on the small table beside them. “The Americans want it sweeter.”

“What have you heard, Alfie?” Tommy asked now, moving onto the business at hand. 

“I heard a copper got shot. Who shot him?”

“My kestrel,” Tommy answered.

“Right, I'll up the stakes, very good.”

“Where are the Sicilians?”

“They're still using Sabini for vehicles and for places to stay,” Alfie said.

Tommy lit a cigarette and took a seat at the small table. “And reinforcements?”

“Ah, no, they're Sicilians, aren't they, they don't trust nobody who ain't fucked a goat on the morning of their first pubic hair. They've got traditions.” Alfie now leaned against his cane. 

“How many are here?” Tommy asked. 

“Eleven. Enough to drop a man who wrapped his balls in an OBE till they fell off,” Alfie answered.

After a moment he asked his own question. “Tell me, does the assistant know about your little plan?”

“She knows.” Tommy nodded and leaned forward to ash his cigarette in the small crystal ashtray on the table. “But she’s proven a loyal ally.”

“I’m not sure why you’d trust a stranger, Tommy.”

“Well, the real question is, Alfie, which side are you playing for, eh?”

Alfie laughed. “Fucking hell. What kind of world is it to bring up children when your own mate can ask you that question, hey?” 

Tommy just sat silently, trying to make out what it was Alfie stood to gain from any of this--an alliance with him or an alliance with Changretta. 

“But the truth is, Tommy, you're going to be fucking dead soon,” Alfie continued, as usual. “Yeah, and then, your starlings, right, they will peck out your blue eyes, won't they, and the jackdaws, they will steal your gold and your medals, and pretty soon, it'll be as if you'd never even fucking happened, right?”

Finn ran into the warehouse, a look of alarm on his face. 

“Tommy, there are men approaching,” he said, out of breath.

“Yeah, let 'em pass.”

“Right, you tell Darby Sabini from me, that if the Italians win, they're not planning on leaving,” Tommy continued to Alfie. “After me, it'll be him, then you, then the Titanic. They're the fucking Mafia, Alfie. They've come here and can't believe our coppers are unarmed. They can distill their liquor and it's not against the law. They've come here and they like what they see. They're coming and they're here to stay.”

Alfie just watched him without saying a word. 

That’s when Aberama Gold walked in, his son Bonnie following close behind. 

Bonnie, was to be Goliath’s opponent in the upcoming event.

“Mr Shelby? We've come to talk purse for the fight,” Gold said.

“Your kestrel? Hm?” Alfie asked, “Tommy, when a pikey walks in with hair like that, you've got to ask yourself, ‘Have I made a mistake?’” He couldn’t help throwing jabs. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Gold asked him. 

“Who the fuck am I?”

“Who the fuck is this?” He now looked to Tommy who just shrugged in return, clearly enjoying the banter. 

“I, my friend I am the uncle, the protector and the promoter of that fucking thing right there,” Alfie said, now pointing his cane at Goliath. “In whose shadow nothing good nor godly will ever fucking grow.”

Gold turned to look at the giant who’d sat quietly behind him until that moment. Bonnie, too, took in his image. 

“That, there, right, is the Southern Counties Welterweight Champion. He is of mixed religion, therefore he is godless. He was adopted by Satan himself, before he was returned out of fear of his awkwardness, he is impossible to marry off, due to his lethal dimensions. His mother, terrified, she's fucking abandoned him. And there he is, stood before you, like the first of some brand-new fucking species. Any man that you put before him, right, it'd be like entering a fucking threshing machine, mate,” Alfie rambled, moving closer to Gold now.

“Now will you offer your son?” he nodded toward Bonnie.

Gold’s eyes shifted from Alfie to his son, searching for confirmation. 

Bonnie stepped forward, “Name the day, Mr. Shelby,” he said.

* * *

Tommy insisted Sophie stay at Arrow House that day; had, in fact, made his entire family stay away from the Small Heath office for fear Changretta would strike there in the street instead of following him as planned. 

She’d called Changretta from Arrow House the evening before to give Tommy up. Although he’d told her what to say, he left her in his office to actually have a bit of privacy on the call--she was rattled enough to call in the first place and didn’t need Tommy hovering over her while she did it. 

“Do what do I owe this pleasure?” Changretta’s voice dripped with arrogance as he took up the receiver. “I suppose you’ve decided to take me up on my offer.”

 _Some offer_. He hadn’t given her a choice. It’d been her life or Tommy’s.

“Tomorrow is the day, Mr. Changretta,” She began, trying to control the quiver in her voice. “He’ll be leaving work unprotected. His men will be moving gin for Alfie Solomons in the afternoon.”

“Ha. What does a fucking gypsy rag doll know about gin, eh?”

Sophie said nothing, afraid she may say the wrong thing if she didn’t stick exactly to the letter of the plan. 

She could hear him breathing on the other end of the line and thought he might be content to sit there, silently holding the phone, just to goad her. 

“Tomorrow,” he finally said.

“Yes,” she responded, trying to push down the lump rising in her throat. 

“And I suppose I should believe you,” Changretta said, rather than asked.

“I don’t want to give him up, Mr. Changretta, but you’ve forced my hand.” 

They’s spoken a few more minutes, just to work out the details. She tried not to ask too many questions, both because she didn’t want him to become suspicious and because she really didn’t want to know what he had planned--didn’t want it to become a regularly recurring nightmare in her already too long repertoire. But she’d asked what she needed to and relayed the pertinent information back to Tommy, handing him the noose he very well may hang by.

So that morning, as Sophie watched him leave for work, knowing he was willingly walking right into the hands of the enemy, her nightmares took control of her mind. 

* * *

“He’s back,” she heard Frances call from the kitchen. Sophie hit the hallway just as Tommy opened the front door, but even through the darkness she could see he hadn’t been injured. He hadn’t yet noticed her and turned away to remove his coat and hat. Sophie searched his profile for any show of emotion, wondering if he’d been successful in his plot that afternoon. As he turned toward the hall, Charlie ran out from behind Sophie and jumped into his arms. 

He finally made eye contact with her, but Sophie didn’t say a word. 

“I got three,” was all he said as he carried Charlie further into the hall. 

In that moment, Sophie felt too many emotions to register. Pain. Tommy had been pulling away from her for weeks and she didn’t know why. She couldn’t help but think May Carlton had something to do with it. Jealousy. Tommy’s only mention of his plans were to insist that go along with the plan and pretend to turn on him. Anger. He’d clearly put himself at risk, and for what? He’d gotten three, but it was clear now Luca wasn’t one of them. Relief. She’d spent the last eight hours sure he was dead. 

Tommy walked toward her, almost as if he could read the confusion in her eyes, Charlie reaching out for Sophie’s face from his arms.

“See Ms. Sophie, Daddy’s alright,” Charlie beamed.

Sophie just nodded, fighting back tears as she smiled sweetly at the boy.

“Ahh, was Ms. Sophie worried about me?” Tommy asked his son, a smug smile spreading across his face.

“That’s what Frances said. Said she’d worry herself to death. But she didn’t _died-ed_ , did she Daddy?!” 

“No--no she didn’t,” Tommy said, chuckling at his son’s misused word. He searched her face and added, “I think she may still be a bit worried. What do you think, boy?

“Let’s give her a hug!” Charlie shrieked.

She finally made eye contact with Tommy, regretting it instantly as his eyes left her feeling drunk. 

Tommy reached his free hand out to her. When Sophie took it, he pulled her in quickly, for a tight embrace. She felt herself melt into him, despite not wanting to, letting the conflicting emotions wash away. Instead she just felt comforted that he was here and buried her face in his neck. His broad hand moved up her back. She pulled back at the gesture, but Tommy wouldn’t let her go completely, keeping her face close to his and staring at her mouth. That’s when he softly pressed his lips to hers

As soon as he felt her kiss back, Tommy reached around her waist and pulled her in tighter. Sophie tried to tilt her head away, but Tommy moved his forward in response, not letting her pull out of the kiss. He opened his mouth, running his tongue along her lower lip. Lust took hold of her and she opened her own in response. He tasted like tobacco and whiskey, so much like the scent he left behind every time he exited the room. She could no longer think, but could only feel as her hands slid down Tommy's chest and clutched at his collar, seeking something to anchor her to the ground. Only then did she realize she was holding her breath. 

Charlie let out a giggle prompting Tommy to pull away and look toward his son. He slowly sat him on the ground, mussed his hair, and sent him off to find Frances and get ready for bed. The realization of what had just happened hit them both as they watched the young boy bounce up the stairs. 

Sophie, thankful to be looking away from him for a moment, tried to steady her breath. As she turned back to meet his gaze, she found herself wrapped in another embrace and another impossibly passionate kiss. She gave in and leaned against him. Tommy reached down her thigh, brushing her skirt along the way, and locked his hand behind her leg. Taking the cue, Sophie jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, all the while keeping their lips locked together. She felt him hard between her legs pushing against her core. 

Tommy moved them into the office and kicked the door shut behind them. His mouth moved down her chin and explored her neck as he made way toward his desk. Sophie let her head fall back, happy to allow him a moment of exploration. His warm, wet breath was more than she could handle and she felt a familiar tightening in her gut. She knew this wasn’t rational--she should push him away, not let this happen. He was her boss, he was her friend, and she didn’t want to ruin those relationships. But god, was he alluring. Her head told her to stop, but it had lost all control of her body and she gave into the primal urges he stirred in her. 

He set her on the desk and began pulling at her clothing as his lips returned to hers. She could barely breathe, but she didn’t dare break from the kiss. Tommy found the hem of her skirt and dragged his fingers up each leg. He smiled against her lips when he found the revolver strapped to her thigh. His hands crept higher and she found herself grabbing at the longer hairs on the top of his head, grasping to hold tight as his touch threatened to send her floating away. 

He found the seam of her underwear and ran his fingers under the lace on her hips. She let out a soft moan feeling his touch so close to her core which caused him to pause. He pressed his forehead to hers and shook his head softly. “Fuck,” he let out on bated breath. His eyes, with pupils blown by desire, searched her own. He didn’t want to stop, but needed to know she was okay with where they were heading.

Unable to take his gaze for very long, Sophie grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her lips back to his. Tommy grabbed her ass to pull her forward more, pressing himself between her legs. Just as she began to rock her hips against him, a knock caused them to both stop suddenly. 

“Mr. Shelby, Charlie insists on a bedtime story. Says you promised him one this morning,” Frances said through the heavy wooden door. 

Fighting to find some composure, Sophie lowered herself off the desk into the space between them, slowly sliding down his strong and hard body as she did so. They were both panting for air, when Frances opened the door, prompting Sophie to turn and move away from him quickly. 

“Mr. Shelby?” Frances said.

“I’m on my way, Frances. Thank you” Tommy responded rubbing a hand over his face. 

He leaned over his desk, placing both his hands flat on its surface and hanging his head. Frances left the room as quickly as she'd entered it.

“Probably for the best, right? We do have a deal, you know,” Sophie said, reminding him of the conversation they’d had when he hired her.

Tommy didn’t look at her, choosing to focus on something on the desk instead. He just nodded. 

“You promised me, Tommy. And we’d both do best to remember that agreement.” She could feel a new heat rising in her chest. One of frustration, not passion. She’d been serious about that deal and couldn’t believe they’d almost given into the temptation to break it.

“Right” was all Tommy could say, keeping his back turned as she left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and feedback are so very appreciated!! Thanks for following along!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy stood still, wanting so badly to close the space between them again, but knowing he couldn’t cross it. Not now. 
> 
> “You said when this Changretta mess was over that I could come home,” she said, looking away. 
> 
> “It’s not done, Sophie.”
> 
> “No, but this is over.” She motioned to the space between them. “And I'm home. And I just want it all to go back to the way it was. Before.”

Tommy only made it three pages into the book before his son was asleep in his arms. After placing Charlie back into his bed, Tommy retired to his own. He’d had time now to calm down, but he was still thinking of her. The taste of her lips, the feel of her tongue pulling at his and her soft hands in his hair. He undressed to rid himself of the smell of her and climbed into bed, hoping for sleep, although he feared it wouldn’t come. 

The door opened with a slow creak and Tommy turned to see her sneaking into the room. He could only make out the shape of her through the moonlight and expected her to say something from where she stood. Shock pulsed through him as she climbed on top of his body and anchored herself on his lap. He could see now that she wasn’t wearing her night dress, but only a bra and lace panties. Immediately Tommy grabbed at her. He’d dreamed of this moment so many times and had come so close to making it a reality in his office earlier that night. He wasn’t going to let it slip away from him again.

He pulled her down, her chest meeting his, and wrapped an arm around her. His other hand grabbed at her face and slid into her hair as he found her lips with his own. 

_Sophie_.

She was soft but moved roughly. She was passionate. Her tongue fought with his for control of their kiss. She began rocking her hips against his and he felt a low moan grow deep in his chest as his desire crashed against the walls he’d so meticulously put up. 

_God, Sophie_.

Her breath became heavy, growing into deep but quick pants for air. He moved his tongue to her neck, finding the spot below her ear that had been so delicious for them both earlier in the evening. As he reached to untie the ribbon holding her bra closed, she whispered in his ear, “Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy froze.

“Mr. Shelby,” she said in a full voice now. “It’s your brother.”

Something was wrong. He couldn’t smell her perfume. He couldn’t feel the warmth from her body. 

“Mr. Shelby, I’m sorry to wake you. Sir, it’s your brother,” she said, looking into his eyes now.

Tommy sat up in a start to find Frances in his doorway.

“I’m sorry to wake you, sir, but he says it’s urgent,” She said now.

“I’m awake,” Tommy replied, rubbing his face in frustration. “I’m on my way,” he grumbled. 

Wrapping himself in his robe and returning to his office to take the phone call was a challenge. He was unsteady on his feet, drunk off the dream he’d awoken from.

* * *

Bonnie Gold and Goliath would face off in a fine ring constructed in a large opera hall. Tommy had arranged the purse and was ready to collect and move on with the next and final step in his plan against Changretta. 

The entire Shelby clan poured into the opera hall as Sophie watched from the street. 

Two days had passed since the night in his office and she’d somehow successfully avoided Tommy since, despite the fact that she still slept down the hall from him each night and worked right outside of his office each day. It helped that Tommy, too, avoided the situation, deciding he couldn’t handle preparing for the fight, planning to take on Changretta, and falling in love all at the same time. 

Sophie watched until Tommy was out of sight and eventually followed the crowd into the building, choosing to sit with Ada and Linda across the ring from him. They made eye contact a few times throughout the evening, but neither one chose to acknowledge the other. 

At the close of the first round, she made a trip to the to the washroom with Ada and Linda. The ladies they passed around their whiskey and watched Linda partake in her husband’s bad habit as she snorted a few lines of snow. She was still struggling to sleep a full night since bringing home their son and, as far as Sophie was concerned, deserved a night out as much as any of them. She found herself enjoying the evening, not thinking of Tommy for the first time all night. 

That’s when they heard gunshots.

Sophie stood looking into the mirror, preparing to reapply her bright red lips, when the sound rang out. They ran from the washroom and saw him standing in the ring, shooting his gun above his head. 

“My brother is dead!”

It’s all Sophie heard before it was replaced with a deafening ring in her ears. She and Ada immediately caught Linda as she slumped between them. Polly rushed to her side, seemingly from nowhere, wrapping her arms around Linda and speaking quietly into her ear. 

In the ensuing chaos, they rushed to help Linda out of the building. None of them noticed the Italians who hurried out with them.

* * *

He’d been betrayed.

There was no other explanation. As he looked around the small room at the family that surrounded him, he found himself thinking the unthinkable-- _could it have been one of them?_ He hung his head low as he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind.

Arthur was alive, sitting in the corner drinking whiskey, but was worse for wear. The deep cut along his throat served as evidence of someone’s betrayal. 

Tommy searched his memory, thinking about the last few months--wondering who may stand to gain from opening the door to the Italians.

And for the second time since he met her, he found himself suspicious of Sophie. 

Polly had told him once before that love could blind him. And it had. He’d been blinded by Grace. Tommy wasn’t one to reflect on his feelings often, but he had been thinking of Sophie more and more. _Was that moment of passion an attempt to disarm? Could she have played along in helping with the attack only because Changretta had a bigger plan for tonight?_

He raised his head slowly but his heart quickened. Arthur seemed to know what he was thinking when he caught Tommy’s gaze from across the room. He looked at his brothers, then to his cousin.

Pointing his finger at Michael, he simply barked his order. 

“Go find her.”

* * *

Michael found her helping Linda into the car. 

“Leaving so soon?” he asked through the smoke from his cigarette. 

“Michael, what’s going on? They said someone was killed.” Sophie was panicked now, but tried to contain her voice to a whisper. “Was it Arthur? Where are the boys?”

“Come with me,” he said, grabbing her wrist and leading her back toward the building. He swung the door open quickly and led her into a dark hallway, one instantly familiar to Sophie. 

Her mind flashed back to her dream. This was the hallway--the one where Tommy had died, over and over in her nightmare. She tried to steady herself against the wall, but Michael didn’t let her slow down. He just kept pulling at her until they reached a room at the end of the hallway. 

“This place, it’s-- it’s from my dream,” she muttered, reaching for Tommy as soon as she turned the corner. She searched his body for a wound, pulling his jacket away and frantically moving her hands over his chest, back, and arms. 

“Was it a dream, Sophie, or was it a plan?”

It took a moment for her to register what he’d asked. When it hit her, she looked up to find anger in his piercing eyes.

“What?” Was the only response she could manage.

“Someone gave us up,” Michael added now, from behind them. “Someone let Changretta’s men in here tonight.”

“And you think it was me?” Sophie asked looking around the room.

“You’re not denying it.” Arthur added from the corner. He could barely talk, but he managed to get the insult out. How he could possibly think this of Sophie--how any of them could--was baffling. And beyond painful. She’d considered them all family. Thought she’d proven that more than once. Had helped Tommy best Changretta. Risked her own life to do it.

Steeling herself to their reactions, Sophie said, “Well, it seems like you’ve already made up your mind about it.” 

She turned to storm from the room when Tommy grabbed her arm, spun her to face him, and pushed her back against the wall--holding her by her chin. 

“What, you’ve been in Changretta’s pocket all this time, eh?” he growled, his face just inches from hers. His nostrils flared as he fought the urge to hit her. “All of this was a lie, right? You give me up now?” 

“I told you everything I knew,” Sophie managed to squeeze out through his tightening grip on her face. 

“That is my fucking brother,” he spat, as he pointed toward Arthur.

She tried to glance in his direction, but could barely see Arthur’s eyes now through the blood smeared all over his face. Tears welled in her own eyes.

“And _my fucking brother_ ," she countered. “You told me I was family, Tommy.”

Tommy slammed his free hand against the wall next to her head. He loosened his grip, but refused to fully release her. He continued to search her face for an answer.

“Tommy.” John spoke up now and tried to calm his brother. “She’s right. Sophie is one of us, remember.”

“Family doesn’t do this,” Arthur said to no one in particular.

“No they don’t,” John said pulling Tommy away from her. 

John stood between them, looking into his brothers eyes. But Tommy didn’t release his gaze until his breathing calmed. 

He finally turned away from them and ordered, “Just get her out of here.”

* * *

For all her desire not to, Sophie returned to work the next day. She’d spent the night in her own flat, refusing to return to Arrow House. She’d collapsed on the sofa after downing a few glasses of whiskey and finding herself too exhausted to climb the stairs to her lonely bedroom. 

She was desperate for some semblance of normalcy and she knew she’d never move on if she couldn’t pick herself back up after a fall. She also couldn’t afford to quit her job so she decided to hold her head high and walk right into the office like nothing happened. 

And she did. 

Much to her relief, Tommy never came in that day--or the next. 

She had enough work to keep her busy, regardless of whether or not he was in the office. On the second day, Polly stopped by to deliver paperwork to Tommy. Sophie fought the urge to ask where he may be, but Polly offered the information freely anyway. 

“Tommy’s in Margate,” she said, after dropping the papers on Tommy’s desk and returning to the open room. 

After making small talk she revealed they’d decided it must have been Alfie Solomons who turned on them. Sophie was relieved to be out of suspicion, but Alfie’s guilt didn’t change the fact that Tommy and Arthur had been so quick to mistrust her. 

“For what it’s worth, none of us truly thought it was you,” Polly offered.

But it was too late. The damage had been done. 

Sophie just forced a small smile and turned back to her work. She no longer had the energy, nor the desire, to give a damn.

* * *

Sophie returned home that day hoping to have one evening without seeing or speaking to any member of the Shelby family--one evening of peace. She sat by an opened window, grateful for warmer spring days that allowed her to enjoy fresh air, though she found herself longing for the clean air of the countryside and not the smell of industry that poured into her flat in Small Heath.

That’s when the knock came. 

She opened the door to find Tommy, blood dripping from his hand onto the floor.

He removed his hat but said nothing.

She was tempted to slam the door in his face, but let him in instead--assuming he’d come for help with his injury instead of conversation. She followed his lead and helped him remove his jacket without saying a word. 

Tommy had been shot. 

Her dream made reality, although the seriousness of the injury was different. He was shot in the arm and he needed her help to remove the bullet. 

“Still not safe to visit the hospitals?” She asked, motioning for him to sit on the table and moving to collect the tools she’d need to work on his arm. Her hands worked without the help from her brain, searching drawers for tweezers, sterile cloths, anything she may need to dig into his flesh and remove the bullet. As she moved, her mind raced, replaying the dream she’d had over and over. 

Tommy didn’t answer her but it didn’t matter, she went to work. 

“Hold still,” she ordered. “I don’t have a proper antiseptic, so I’ll need to douse it in alcohol.”

She poured from a bottle of rum she’d found in the cabinet and dug in. Tommy wrenched forward with a loud, deep groan, but after some work she removed the bullet and dropped it into the small glass jar on the table. Before he could say a word, she poured again from the rum bottle onto the open wound, pulling another moan of pain from Tommy’s throat. 

As she got to work on his stitches Tommy finally looked at her. He was panting for breath but he watched as she focused intently on the task at hand. 

Still refusing to make eye contact, she cleaned and stitched the wound then worked to move her tools to the sink. All along ignoring the painful silence that lay between them. 

“Thank you,” he finally said in his low brum. A few days ago that brum would have unraveled her. Now, though, she was more resolute than ever to fight its pull.

“Of course,” is all she said as she cleaned her tools, back turned to him.

She heard him behind her now, approaching closer.

“I made a mistake,” he said. 

And if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was apologizing--humbled, even. 

Finally turning to face him, Sophie replied, “Yeah, I think I did too.”

She hung her head, fighting back the tears threatening to spill and reveal her pain. Instead, she focused on drying her hands on her apron. She saw his feet in front of her just seconds before she felt him lift her chin. “Sophie,” he pleaded. 

And just like that, it burst forth. The pain and frustration he’d caused her. The resentment that had bottled up as she found herself drawn to a man who couldn’t trust her, let alone love her back. And just like that, she said it. All of it. 

“What do you want from me?” She asked, pushing his hand away. “You spend months letting me in, then--, then you push me away. I spend all of this time worried about you, knowing you'd get shot, which you did by the way!” She was shouting now. “God, these last 24 hours. But then--, But--, you accuse me of working with him. What the fuck is that, Tommy? As if this is all my fault. Did you ever believe that? Did you really believe that?” 

Crying, she lowered her voice and continued. “And now. This. Just. What the fuck do you want? What, Tommy. Please?”

He grabbed her, crashing his lips to hers in a rough kiss. It’s what she’d wanted--what she’d really been seeking for days now. But she wasn’t going to give into it again. 

She pushed him away, shaking her head. 

Tommy stood still, wanting so badly to close the space between them again, but knowing he couldn’t cross it. Not now. 

“You said when this Changretta mess was over that I could come home,” she said, looking away. 

“It’s not done, Sophie.”

“No, but this is over.” She motioned to the space between them. “And I'm home. And I just want it all to go back to the way it was. Before.”

“That's what you want?” he asked, raising his head higher, as if challenging her--tying to call her bluff.

“Yes,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

Tommy just nodded and walked toward the door. As he pulled his coat on with some difficulty, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll send your things.” 

With that, she heard his footsteps make way back down the hall and the door shut behind them. 

All of the pain that had been sitting in her throat burst forth with a sob as her tears finally flowed freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Feedback/comments always welcome!! XOXO


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knew he’d ask her soon. 
> 
> And she knew she’d say ‘yes’ when he did.

Sophie met Robert at the tea rooms.

The irony of this was not lost on her, though why she continually agreed to meet Ada at the tea rooms was still a mystery. In truth, she longed for Ada’s companionship and relished in a few quiet hours out from under the watchful eye of Tommy and his men. Even though it had been three months since they took out Changretta, Tommy still insisted on posting protection around the city for his family. And he still considered Sophie part of that family despite the fact that they hadn’t acted like much more than acquaintances since the night of the fight.

Robert had already been seated in the room when Sophie and Ada were escorted to their table. She’d noticed his gaze, but ignored it for most of the afternoon. As he was leaving, though, he approached the women and, after a few moments of small talk about the weather, he apologized for his forwardness and asked her for a date. It wasn’t until after he left that Sophie realized she hadn’t said a word to him. 

She could tell from her friend’s face that she was disappointed. Ada hoped that Sophie and Tommy would somehow put their issues behind them and would find a way to rekindle what she was sure had been stirring between them. Sophie, though, had convinced herself that none of those stirrings had actually occurred. She and Tommy had only ever wanted one thing from each other. She’d needed a job and he’d needed an assistant. Sure, they were both lonely and may have drifted toward one another because of it, but in the end they both seemed to believe it was a mistake and seemed relieved it had ended as quickly as it began. 

It had been three months since she moved back to Small Heath. She’d called Robert the next day, although she’d struggled to recall what he looked like. She remembered he was blonde and thought he may be handsome, but she only saw Tommy’s face when she closed her eyes. When they met for dinner that night, she realized she was right--he was _quite_ handsome. Tall, blonde, green eyes, and wide shoulders--he was different from Tommy. She needed different. 

Through the conversation she came to learn he was in local politics. Another fundamental difference. He was a man who could give her an honest life, a man who smiled freely, a man who said he wanted to fight for the residents of Birmingham. But a man as bland as the crackers served with her soup. 

She courted Robert for the next few months, but she only allowed him to court a ghost of herself, something that didn’t exist and never would--something that was better suited to his life. It had been easy enough and she couldn’t help but think this is how Tommy had been living all those years since the war. 

Tommy hadn’t said a word about the relationship, though she was sure he'd known. He hadn’t said much to her at all and even avoided being alone with her, opting to leave the office door open if he did need to conduct business with only Sophie. It was so unlike him that she didn’t know what to make of it. Tommy never seemed to care what others thought and certainly never seemed uncomfortable or less than perfectly self-possessed. But now he acted as if her presence was almost unbearable. 

It hurt her more deeply than she let on. 

There were days she thought he paraded women past her just to make her jealous but really she knew he was just moving on with his life. 

Not wanting to choose between her friend and her brother, Ada attempted to bridge the gap and spent some time with Robert, later giving him her stamp of approval. To the rest of the Shelby family, Robert wasn’t a topic for discussion. Polly secretly hoped it would fizzle as slowly and dully as it’d started.

But it hadn’t.

Then Sophie found the ring in Robert’s nightstand. 

She knew he’d ask her soon. 

And she knew she’d say "yes" when he did. 

* * *

She entered his office as quietly as she’d knocked, careful not to draw too much attention to herself. When Tommy looked up and realized it was her, her dropped his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

“What can I do for you, Sophie?” he asked.

She felt a cold sweat break on her neck. Brandishing a perfectly wrapped box from behind her back, Sophie responded, “I just have a little something for Charlie’s birthday.” And after a pause, “I saw it and couldn’t resist.” 

He took the gift from her and thought a moment before clearing his throat. “Why don’t you join us for his party tomorrow?”

“Oh I couldn’t impose.”

“You’re invited, Sophie. You can even bring Robert, if you’d like. I’ve yet to meet him.” Tommy forced a smile.

It startled her to hear Robert’s name on Tommy’s lips. She assumed he knew about them, it wasn’t a secret, but she somehow hoped they could go on forever never discussing it.

“I’m not sure he’d be available,” she stammered, trying to mask the uneasiness in her voice. “But I’d love to see Charlie. It’s been so long.” She responded.

“He misses you too,” Tommy said quietly, looking down at the box in his hands.

* * *

The car pulled up outside her flat at 10:00 am sharp. A young man in a peaked cap was driving and Sophie did her best to make small talk with him during the drive to Arrow House. He answered every question calling her “ma’am.” Sophie just laughed. “I’m hardly old enough to be a _ma’am_ to you,” she said.

“True, ma’am, but Mr. Shelby instructed us to show you the utmost respect,” the young man replied. “He said you were a real classy lady.”

Sophie could only smile.  _ Of course he had.  _

“Alright, well just between the two of us, then, you can call me Sophie,” she’d told him with a wink. The rest of the drive was pleasant and decidedly more comfortable. So much so that they’d arrived at Arrow House much quicker than either driver or passenger had realized.

Upon entering Arrow House, Sophie was greeted by an exuberant birthday boy who, after a quick but tight embrace, told her she could find the whole family in the back garden. 

It was the most relaxed she’d ever seen Tommy--even after all those weeks she’d spent in his home. He was wearing his usual three piece suit, but his hair was a bit tousled and he seemed to actually be enjoying himself. Life was, no doubt, a little easier with Changretta out of the picture. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he may be finding a bit of peace finally. He noticed her across the yard and came to greet her.

“You made it,” he said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she blushed.

“Well, it may be Charlie’s birthday, but I have a surprise to share with you.” And he nodded in the direction of the stables. 

* * *

The horse was already saddled up when she entered the stables. He was a deep chestnut with darker coloring on his mane and tail. 

“Is this Charlie’s gift?” She asked, smiling wide.

Tommy only hummed in assent as he lit a cigarette. “Well, go on then,” he said, motioning toward the horse.

Sophie looked the horse over and ran her hand down his silky coat. He reacted by leaning into her. Much like the first time she met Belle, Sophie had a sudden urge to ride--to get out in the fresh air and leave her worries behind. She imagined what a brisk ride might do for her anxiety about being back at Arrow House. The anxiety that came with actually talking to Tommy again about more than just ledgers and appointments. 

“He likes you,” Tommy said, eliciting a small laugh from Sophie. 

“Are you planning to ride him today?” She asked.

“Hmm, yes,” he responded. “I thought we’d both go.” He moved to the back of the stable and retrieved Belle, who was also dressed and saddled. 

Sophie couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. I’d been months since she’d been on a horse and she missed it terribly. Sensing her excitement, Tommy handed her the reigns. She noticed the hint of a smile spreading across his face. 

* * *

The rain came suddenly and, of course, just as they had turned the farthest corner of the lower field. Tommy was in front and turned to get her attention before moving his horse into action back toward the house. He’d turned a few times to ensure Sophie was still close behind him as he navigated over the muddy terrain, finally arriving back at the house soaking wet. The party had moved indoors and only remnants remained strewn through the garden.

Standing in the kitchen, she gladly took the towel he offered and worked it through her damp hair. He’d taken the brunt of the rain, having shed his coat and thrown it over her head and shoulders as they left the shelter of the barn to make their way across the lawn to the house.

She handed the towel back to him. “I think you need it more than I do,” she said.

Tommy chuckled and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear before taking the towel. She only remembered seeing him smile a handful of times, and was reminded just how lovely it was. 

Just then, the door to the kitchen flung open and Ada and Polly entered, a concerned look on both their faces.

“What is it?” Tommy asked, his brow furrowed now, the smile having completely drained from his face.

“There you are!” Robert exclaimed as he entered the room. “I’ve been worried sick. Damn foolish of you to go riding in the rain.” He was belligerent as he pushed through the women still standing in the doorway. The dark shade of red that covered his face would have betrayed his anger if his words had not.

“It wasn’t raining when we set off,” Tommy said in his calm, low brum. He’d sensed Sophie’s shock and wanted to spare her the embarrassment. “We haven’t met. I’m Tommy Shelby,” he continued extending his hand and brandishing his best, most disdainful smirk.

Robert looked straight at him but didn’t extend the same pleasantries. Ignoring Tommy’s outstretched hand, he turned to Sophie instead.

“It’s time you head home,” he said.

“But Robert,” she replied with a smile, “the party has really just begun.”

“We still need to open presents and cut the cake,” Ada said, trying now to diffuse the situation.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Tommy added, hoping he’d refuse.

“Sophie really must be going,” Robert continued, sternly. “We both should.”

It was Polly’s turn to interject, watching the hatred grow in her nephew’s demeanor. “We can make sure Sophie gets home safely,” she said.

Sensing he was fighting a losing battle, Robert turned to Sophie. “Can we speak somewhere privately?” 

They turned back toward the kitchen door, Robert forcefully grabbing Sophie’s elbow. Tommy’s jaw clenched in reaction, but Polly stepped forward and stopped him before he could make matters worse. Sophie jerked away from Robert, but led him out of the hallway and into Tommy’s office.

“This is ridiculous,” he spewed through gritted teeth. “You have no business spending so much time here alone, and you certainly shouldn't be riding off on horseback with strange men.”

“I'm hardly alone, Robert. And Tommy’s hardly a stranger,” she said as she rolled her eyes. She’d never seen him so worked up and assumed it was simply out of worry for her safety.

“Tommy?” he replied. “That’s a little informal for your boss, isn’t it?”

"He’s a friend. They all are.”

“What they are,” he continued, moving closer to her now, “Is a bunch of Pikey criminals.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been seeing him for three months and had never once witnessed Robert lose his temper or raise his voice--let alone so openly belittle someone. He was supposed to be a good man. An honest man. And a good and honest man wouldn’t find it so easy to be so hateful. 

“Friends,” he scoffed, turning away from her again.

“They’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

“Only because they want something from you.”

“And what is that, Robert? What could I possibly have to give that the Shelbys would want?" She felt herself getting angry now and fought the urge to break into a shouting match. 

He swung back around moved closer again, she could feel his hot breath on her face. 

“Just one Shelby. Thomas doesn’t want something _from_ you. He wants _you_. _For himself_.”

Sophie couldn’t understand how he’d jumped to that conclusion. She'd hardly spoken of Tommy, or any Shelby, to him. She'd certainly given him no reason to believe Tommy wanted her--or vice versa.

“Or has he already had you?”

Anger bubbled closer to the surface now. He was jealous. Still, Sophie said nothing.

“Oh my god. Have you fucked him?”

Robert didn’t know about her past with Tommy--about how close they’d come to letting the spark ignite. Again, though, she refused to answer him. Her mind was racing too quickly to even muster a response. She was reminded of the first time she'd met Tommy and how at that meeting he'd accused her of sleeping with John. _Fucking idiots_ , she thought. _All of them._

“Answer me.”

“No,” she finally said. 

“Have you kissed him?”

“Robert--” She tried to move away, but he interrupted her answer and her movement.

“Answer the question, Sophie.”

_What was the fucking point_ , she thought. He already had his mind made up.

“Jesus.”

“It was noth--”

“Don’t give me that,” he shouted, pointing a finger in her face. “You’re quitting that job tomorrow.”

Her job was the only thing in her life that provided earnest happiness. It’d been hard since her fallout with Tommy, sure, but feeling useful, getting to see her family daily, growing closer to Ada, all of that was thanks to her job. She couldn’t imagine giving it up. And she couldn't believe he was asking her to do it.

“And why aren’t you wearing your ring?” He asked now, searching her over for the first time since he'd arrived. 

“Robert, no one knows about our engagement. You said you wanted to announce it--”

“I'll announce it tomorrow and you’ll resign your job. Then we can put these fucking Shelbys behind us.”

“Robert--”

“I expect Polly to bring you home. I don’t want his dirty hands all over you.”

With that, Robert stormed out of the office, past Polly who was standing in the hallway, and out the front doors. Tommy hadn’t heard their conversation, but he watched Robert leave the drive as Charlie opened his gifts at the dining table. 

* * *

Tommy stood in his office, turning over the small wooden horse Sophie had gifted Charlie. His son had turned eight and while it still hurt to know she wouldn’t watch him grow, he knew Grace would have been proud of the person Charlie was becoming. 

They'd given the boy the same thing--each gifting him a horse in their own way. She told him she saw the toy horse in a shop window and couldn’t resist. He wondered how many times a day things reminded her of Charlie. And of him. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her. And he wondered what she saw in a man like Robert.

“I’m leaving now,” she replied, entering the office. “Polly’s giving me a ride.”

“I could take you,” he said sadly.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. Besides, Polly has to go that direction anyhow.” She said quickly, before he could object again. 

They each stood for a moment, letting the awkward silence fall between them as it had so many times over the last few months. He’d been leaning against his desk, but now Tommy moved toward her slowly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she responded. “And thank you for the ride. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed thats” She said, looking down at her hands.

“You know you can come ride anytime you want. Belle is as much yours as she is mine,” he answered. “And I’m sure Charlie would be happy to share Henry with you.”

_ Henry. He’d named the horse after her brother.  _ Tears welled in her eyes. All this time, she thought he was pushing her away because he didn’t care. Maybe he’d been pushing because he cared _too much._

Stepping even closer now, so that his hands could reach her shoulders, Tommy asked, “You sure you won’t let me drive you?” 

Sophie looked up and met his eyes. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to spend a few more moments with him alone. Maybe she’d even work up the nerve to tell him she was engaged. He could walk her to the door and brush her cheek with his calloused fingers. His breath would blow the delicate hairs around her face as he leaned in for a kiss. 

But no. She couldn’t let him drive her. She’d made her commitment, her choice, and she knew getting wrapped up in Tommy again would be a mistake. Despite the horrible side she'd seen of him today, she still wanted to believe Robert was a good man--a good man who could give her a good life.

“I just want to spend more time with you,” Tommy said.

It was the most heartfelt thing he’d ever said to her. He looked away as he said it, as if he knew it, too.

“We both know that’d be a mistake, Tommy,” she responded.

* * *

As she sped down the road, Polly glanced over at Sophie. She was more concerned than ever about Sophie's future and how it may impact her nephew.

“He doesn't know you're getting married,” Polly said.

Sophie thought better than to ask how Polly knew. Polly had her third eye, after all, and may as well have known everything. There was no keeping a secret from her--especially one that impacted the people she loved. 

And as much as he infuriated her, Polly loved her nephew. She had also grown to love Sophie.

“Robert wants me to tell him tomorrow,” Sophie said, looking out the window. “Wants me to quit my job.”

“And why is that?” Polly asked now, lighting a cigarette as she balanced the wheel on her knee. 

“He's afraid of Tommy.”

Polly scoffed, letting out a puff of smoke as she did. “Yeah, well, he should be. They way he grabbed your arm tonight, I thought Tommy--”

“No. Not like that.” Sophie interrupted. “I mean, he's afraid of _me and Tommy_.”

Polly just hummed and drove on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again, folks. Please let me know what you think! I appreciate you reading along!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polly knew he wasn’t sleeping, as the dark circles were making their way back to the thin skin under his eyes. She only noticed he was drinking more because she saw the crates of his gin delivered directly to the office from the distillery. The frequency of the delivery had increased and she knew it wasn’t just him tweaking the recipe again.

Sophie had to drag herself out of bed the next morning, physically tired and mentally drained from the prior day. It had been a day of ups and downs--friendship and celebration interrupted by surprise aggression from a source she’d never suspected of being anything but kind. She’d struggled to sleep, turning his words over in her mind, until she’d had enough and called him for some answers.

Robert had apologized--told her he was “so in love with her” that he couldn’t stand the idea of her kissing another man. He told her he insisted she quit her job with Shelby Company not out of jealousy, but out of fear for her. Just because they didn’t have a massive enemy like Changretta at the moment, didn’t mean more weren’t coming. 

In the end, she chose to believe him.

And now she made her way to work with a ring shining on her finger, announcing Robert’s claim of her to all of Birmingham. It bothered her mostly because she knew people would notice it and she’d have to talk about it--with everyone. 

Including Tommy.

She clutched the resignation letter in her hand, wondering if it’d be best to deliver it at the beginning or end of the day. If she gave it to him early, she’d have to deal with his air of disappointment all day. But she worried that waiting would hurt him--he’d expect her to be more honest. 

Despite all the things running through her mind, numbness settled in and enveloped her senses. She’d lived the last three months in a foggy haze as life happened to and around her, without any catalyst on her part. Today was no different.

As soon as Sophie sat at her desk, Tommy beckoned her back up and to his office. It seemed he was in one of his moods and Sophie briefly reconsidered sharing her news at all.

She grabbed a journal, stuffing the letter into the pages as she made her way to his desk. Without looking up, or even noticing the ring, Tommy began. 

“I understand congratulations are in order,” 

Sophie closed the journal realizing this wasn’t about business--just what she feared.

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she mumbled, concentrating on her fingers as she fidgeted with the ring. 

“Do you love him?”

Sophie scoffed and looked away. “What kind of fucking question is that?” She asked.

“It's a simple fucking question. Either you do or you don’t.”

Sophie sat quietly. This was not the direction she’d expected the conversation to take. 

“So you don't,” Tommy continued.

“I didn't say that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed as he leaned forward. “But you didn't say you do.”

No, she didn’t love Robert. A few months ago she may have thought she could, eventually, but she’d learned otherwise. The love of her life sat across that desk from her and there would never be another. But she couldn’t let him see her fall apart. Resolute in staying strong, she swallowed the breath she’d been holding and waited for his next assault.

But it didn't come. He simply returned her stare, for what felt like an eternity.

“I could--,” she finally said, not sure where the rest of her response was going. But Tommy interrupted before she could finish. 

“But you don’t,” he said.

She just looked away from him now. Anger began to overtake the sadness she’d felt just moments before. “Did you have actual business to attend to or may I return to my desk?” She asked.

“You may go.”

She stood, still not making eye contact, and turned to leave the office.

“We can talk about this later,” he said.

She finally turned to face him. “No we won't talk about this, Tommy,” she said.

Tommy rose from his chair, circling the desk to stand directly in front of her. Now, only inches away, Tommy whispered, “You can’t marry him.”

She had to marry him.

“Sophie, I want you to be happy,” he continued.

“I’m trying,” she whispered in return.

Tommy stood a little straighter and cleared his throat as if trying to swallow the words he really wanted to say. 

“Fine, make me a promise,” he added, after a moment. “If he is ever cruel, if he ever raises a fucking hand to you. Raises so much as his voice. If he ever behaves like he did yesterday--,”

“Yesterday--,” she interrupted. 

“If he’s ever cruel, you'll tell me,” he continued. “Promise me.”

He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to return his direct gaze. 

“I promise,” she finally said, voice barely a whisper. 

Tommy pulled her into an embrace, squeezing the journal between their bodies. She returned the hug with her free arm and buried her face in his neck. She took in his scent for what she thought would be the last time. 

As they pulled apart, Tommy leaned in and kissed her softly. It wasn’t fueled with passion like their last kiss, but was laced with affection. It was soft and warm and lasted longer than it should. She was an engaged woman, after all. But she did little to stop it, allowing them both the closure they needed. 

When they finally separated, she fumbled to find the letter in her notebook. Handing it to him and clearing her throat, she said, “I need to give you this.”

His brow began to furrow. 

“It’s my resignation,” she said, before he could ask. 

His eyes searched her for something, anything, but held the facade in place despite the ease with which it could have crumbled.

“I see,” was all he could muster in response. 

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand. “For everything.”

Tommy only nodded as she left the office. Sophie fought the urge to turn back, to look at him as she left. Instead she grabbed her purse and walked out into the street back toward her flat.

If she had turned, she would have seen a version of Tommy she’d never seen. He stood holding the letter, not strong enough to open it, the bright blue of his eyes dulled by tears.

* * *

The wedding was beautiful. 

Robert had money and wanted to make a show of everything. Sophie had just as soon been married at the courthouse with a few witnesses, but Robert’s whole family insisted on a grand affair. 

She’d invited the Shelbys, as they were the closest thing to family she’d known in adulthood, and was pleased that many attended. One pair of blue eyes hadn’t made an appearance, but it was just as well. Sophie didn’t think she could have married another man with the pull of those eyes on her. 

Tommy read about the wedding in the society pages, making careful note of Sophie’s face in the photo. She’d only resigned a few weeks prior and he hadn’t yet forgotten the way her smile could light up a room, though that wasn’t the smile she wore in the photo. 

He was surprised to see her holding lilies. He’d imagined her with a bouquet of peonies on her wedding day.

“You ready to talk about it?” Ada asked, walking into his office unannounced to find him looking at the photo. She didn’t know it was the hundredth time he’d stopped what he was doing to stare at it. Each time he’d thought about how it should be him standing beside her--but reminded himself how she was better off with someone like Robert. 

“Talk about what, Ada?” he asked, placing the paper in the waste basket beside his desk and taking up a lit cigarette from the ashtray. 

“So, no,” Ada responded simply, taking the chair across from him so they could conduct their meeting.

“Nothing to discuss,” he mumbled through the cigarette hanging from his lips. 

* * *

After Grace died, Polly had been worried her nephew would never love again. She was sure, then, that Tommy would live the rest of his life pushing people away. She feared for little Charlie, that he wouldn’t remember how loving his father could be--how big of a heart he really had for his family. That was the Tommy she’d always chosen to remember, even when he was being particularly obstinate and difficult. 

All that had changed when Sophie came along. She’d watched her nephew finally open his heart again in ways she never thought he would. It’d happened gradually. Since that day at the Garrison, she’d noticed it more and more, but she knew it hadn’t happened at any specific moment. They’d both made their way in, inch by inch, though neither was likely to admit it. 

But unlike it’s soft and steady beginning, it was over in a flash.

Then he began to spiral.

Much like when Grace died, Tommy struggled to find peace after Sophie’s wedding. Polly knew he wasn’t sleeping, as the dark circles were making their way back to the thin skin under his eyes. She only noticed he was drinking more because she saw the crates of his gin delivered directly to the office from the distillery. The frequency of the delivery had increased and she knew it wasn’t just him tweaking the recipe again. 

She sat in Sophie’s old desk chair ruminating over one of those bottles and thinking about her nephew’s heart, when a voice startled her from behind. 

“I didn’t think anyone would be here,” Sophie said quietly, looking down at her feet.

“It’s just me, love,” Polly responded. “All the others are out for the evening.”

The late hour was the primary reason she’d stopped by. Sophie hadn’t expected any of the family to still be in the office at this time of night.

“I just left a few things and thought this might be a good time to collect them,” She said.

Polly just nodded in response, and it struck Sophie just how alike she and Tommy truly were. 

Polly rose from the desk allowing Sophie the access she needed and watched as the young woman removed a few small personal effects from the desk. It was probably good Tommy hadn’t rummaged through the drawers himself. He would have either burned her things out of spite or held them in his own desk to obsess over in his drunken sadness. 

“How are you, love?” Polly asked her, though her appearance seemed to answer the question before it was asked. Sophie lacked the radiance she’d previously possessed. 

It was Sophie’s turn to simply nod. 

The two stood in silence for a few moments wrestling with what to say to one another. Polly hopelessly wanted to tell her how much Tommy had loved her, how much they all loved her, and how desperate they were to have her back. 

Sophie fought back the desire to ask after Tommy and Charlie. 

Clearing her throat, Sophie said, “Well, I should be off.”

“Right.”

She had her hand on the doorknob when she turned back. “That’s false advertisement, by the way,” Sophie said nodding toward the bottle still in the Polly’s hands. 

Polly just looked down at the bottle trying to understand as Sophie slipped out the door. When Polly flipped the bottle over, rereading the label, she understood: 

“SHELBY COMPANY LIMITED | GIN | DISTILLED FOR THE ERADICATION OF SEEMINGLY INCURABLE SADNESS.”

* * *

The rain had been falling in spurts, forcing Sophie to open her umbrella and close it again over and over, unsure whether or not she really needed it. She stood by the curb, opening it once again when she spotted him. While he looked like anyone else from the back, dark wool coat, dark knit cap, dark hair, it was his walk that gave him away. His walk was one of confidence--bravado, really. She’d know Tommy Shelby’s walk anywhere. 

She called his name.

Tommy stopped, looking about to find who had called for him. After checking ahead of him and across the street, he finally turned to find Sophie. She hadn’t moved, too frozen in shock by her own voice that had called out without her permission. He walked toward her. 

“Hello, Sophie,” he spoke first.

“Hi, Tommy” she responded with a smile. “I heard the Shelby Company had taken some clubs in London. I certainly never expected to run into you, though,” she continued. 

“A pleasant surprise indeed,” he responded.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, Sophie panicking about what to say, Tommy finishing the last of his cigarette.

“I miss you,” she finally decided to say, though she did it with a smile that wouldn’t reveal her sadness. 

Tommy could only muster a nod in response. He couldn’t tell her he’d missed her too. That he hadn’t gone a day, an hour really, without thinking of her since she resigned. That seeing her picture in the paper next to Robert had broken him. That he’d been saddened to hear she was moving to London two months ago when Robert was elected MP. That he’d walked the streets in London hoping to run into her. That he’d seen her once, at a cafe, but couldn’t gather the strength to say hello. 

Instead he just looked at the cobbled sidewalk and shuffled his feet.

“I’m staying with Ada,” he finally said. 

“I’m sure Karl is happy to have you there,” she said in response. But Tommy hadn’t heard her. He was too startled by the fact that she’d placed her hand on his arm and pulled him in closer as she said it. His heart started to race.

It wasn’t until he found himself standing under her umbrella that he realized the rain had picked up. She’d simply been pulling him under for protection. 

Standing so close to her now, Tommy realized he couldn’t let this moment end. He had to see her again. Had to be near her. So he made a bold decision.

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight, at the Eden Club?” he asked. 

She was caught off guard by the invitation, but quick to accept. “I’d love to,” she said, “Robert is out of town campaigning. I’m afraid I’m on my own.”

“I know,” Tommy responded. Removing his cigarette case and preparing to spark another smoke. He needed something to distract him from the urge to pull her hard against him and kiss her. “Seven thirty, then,” he said as he lit the cigarette now dangling from his full lips. “I’ll send a car.”

Sophie smiled and nodded in response. He made eye contact with her once again and held her gaze a little too long before finally turning to walk away. 

“It really is good to see you,” he said as he turned, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. 

* * *

Dinner at the Eden Club was perfectly pleasant. Fun, even. John and Arthur were there, too. Tommy told her he thought it best, not wanting rumors to circulate about her being out alone with him. She was touched by his sincerity and thoughtfulness. Robert would probably lose his shit if he found out she’d spent time with Tommy. He was always frustrated when she came home from an afternoon with Ada. Tommy would probably send him over the edge. 

She’d danced with all three brothers, took delicious drink, eaten an extraordinary meal, and enjoyed every second of it. 

Tommy chose to drive her home himself, making excuses as to why he was going in that direction. Sophie was buzzing too much from adrenaline and gin to protest. 

Tommy turned off the engine as they pulled up outside her house. He turned his body toward her. 

“I shouldn’t walk you to the door,” he said. “I don’t want the wrong eyes to see.”

“Of course,” she responded, sliding across the seat to hug him goodbye.

She wrapped her arms around him and he returned the gesture. Just like in his office, they stayed close as they pulled away from the hug. This time it was Sophie who leaned in for the kiss. But Tommy pulled back. 

“You need to go,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing the small hairs that had fallen around her face. He pushed one of those locks of hair behind her ear with a single finger. 

“Yes, I should,” she said, without making any effort to move, let alone leave. 

“Just fucking go,” Tommy breathed now, closing his eyes and hoping she’d be gone when he opened them.

She finally pulled away from him and gathered her purse and gloves. 

“Good night, Tommy,” she said, taking one last look and exiting the car. 

Tommy watched as she walked to her door, unlocked it, and closed it behind her. He watched for a few minutes more, debating whether he should follow. 

But he didn’t.

Instead, he fought to shed his warm coat, opting to drive in the cold rather than deal with the sweet scent of peonies she’d left behind, and drove into the dark street toward Ada’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple more chapters, lovelies! Thank you so much for continuing to follow along. Feedback is always soooooo appreciated!! XOXO


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she still wouldn’t answer him, Tommy just turned on his heel and headed back for the door. He hadn’t removed his coat, so he moved quickly without anything to slow him. Sophie grabbed at his arm and Ada called for him to stop, but he was determined to find Robert and make him pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warnings are there, folks, but I feel the need to let you know that this chapter does include explicit mentions to domestic violence.

Sophie felt his presence before she heard him. She’d come to Arrow House to visit the horses, to get away from the bustle of the city and spend some time in the fresh air. She genuinely thought she wouldn’t see Tommy--assuming she’d be in and out before he returned home. But as soon as she realized he was behind her, she was grateful he’d come earlier than she expected. She needed to see him. Needed to know they were alright.

He cleared his throat as he stood over her. 

“Hi,” was all she said, turning slightly and smiling from her seated position.

Tommy sat on the grass beside her, letting out a huff as he lowered himself to the ground. It struck Sophie that Tommy probably didn’t sit on the ground often and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him in the grass, like a small boy. He placed his forearms on his knees and leaned into her shoulder with his own.

“Hi,” he returned, without looking at her. 

They sat there, side by side, for longer than either realized. The air started to fall colder as the sun dipped and Sophie finally spoke up.

“I just miss it, you know? And you said I could visit--”

“Yea, I did, and I meant it,” Tommy interrupted. After a few more moments, he made his move to stand again. “Well,” he said, placing his hands on his knees and forcing himself off the ground. “We better get on with it before it’s too late.” He held a hand out to help her up. 

They mounted their horses and started on the path back to the house. About halfway through the ride, Sophie pulled ahead and led them on the scenic route, wanting to stay in that moment with him, freely riding, worries behind her, as long as possible. 

* * *

Robert was home when she finally entered the house at half ten. 

It was late. 

She’d stayed far longer than she’d planned, but she’d had a hard time pulling herself back into the reality that awaited her in London. 

“It’s about time,” he said from the dark. 

Sophie switched on the lights in the parlor to find Robert lazily smoking a cigar, still dressed but a bit disheveled. Clearly he’d been waiting for hours. 

“I wasn’t expecting you home,” she said, as she removed her gloves and hat. 

“I’m sure you weren’t.”

Sophie chose not to respond to the obvious jab. She wasn’t going to apologize for having spent time with a friend. She was an adult and could make her own decisions. As far as Sophie was concerned, Robert was going to have to find a way to accept her relationship with the Shelby family. 

“Did you know he’s running for parliament?” He asked.

“Wha--Who?” she responded, pretending to be uninterested in the information.

Robert just scoffed. 

“Thomas fucking Shelby,” he spat. “Can you imagine? Thomas Shelby, MP? Thomas Shelby in the house of fucking commons?”

“Is that really so radical?” Sophie said, crossing the room now and placing a hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t seen her husband in a week and thought he’d have missed her. She opted to play nice--to give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him an opportunity to say the right things. She bent down to give him a kiss on the forehead, but Robert pulled away--almost disgusted by her presence.

“He’s a criminal.”

“Well that’s nothing new,” she continued, reaching for the whiskey on the sideboard. “So are others.”

“He won’t win.” Robert stood and moved toward her.

“Is that a threat?” She asked without turning to see his face.

He moved close enough to whisper in her ear and moved her hair away from her neck. For a moment, Sophie thought it may be a romantic gesture, but that was quickly shattered.

“And just what the fuck does it matter to you, eh?” He asked in her ear, hatefully.

Sophie didn’t react, despite the elevation of her heart rate and the thoughts racing through her mind. 

After she didn’t answer, Robert eventually retired upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

She stayed up for a few more hours, thinking about Tommy. _Parliament?_ She wondered. _Why would he keep something like that a secret?_

Then it struck her. Perhaps he was using her. Perhaps his reemergence in her life aligned with his plans to take parliament for a reason. Perhaps his interest in her was really an attempt to disarm Robert. She had known him for nearly a year and had seen him do much worse.

But she was tired of constantly doubting him. 

* * *

The names and counts roared out through the hall. Sophie waited on a bench at the bottom of the stairs, conflicted. She knew that one side of her, as his wife, should hope for Robert’s victory. But she’d never been particularly drawn to the idea of playing “dutiful wife.” The other side, the louder one, knew Tommy would come out victorious.

“Ronald Carr, Conservative, 3,412. Bernard Hall, Liberal, 4,015. Robert Ross, Communist, 6,406.”

After a pause, she heard it, “Thomas Shelby, Labor Party, 48,564.” Then uproar and celebration.

The doors to parliament swung open and she watched Tommy emerge victorious. 

“I now declare Thomas Shelby to be the new Labor Member of Parliament for the constituency of Birmingham South.”

Most of what followed was a blur.

She remembered Tommy descending the stairs, his friends and family following closely behind. 

She remembered that he looked different--like he was ready for the challenge she knew he’d be facing. Tommy Shelby was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He had a plan, she was sure of it, she just didn't know what it could be. 

She was pulled from her wandering thoughts when she saw Robert. He followed the other candidates, but quickly pushed through the crowd, clearly taking the loss less gracefully than the others. He violently took her hand and pulled her toward the exit.

Sophie caught Tommy's eyes just as she turned to follow her husband. She mentally steeled herself for what was sure to be a difficult evening.

* * *

At first, Ada incorporated the knock into her dream.

She’d fallen asleep on the sofa after wrestling Karl to bed, not ready to admit that she was tired herself at that point. After the knocking grew to a loud banging, however, she could no longer ignore it.

She opened the front door to find Sophie standing in the rain, large hat pulled down over her face and suitcase in hand. 

Ada simply moved back and opened the door for Sophie to enter. 

This wasn’t the first time she’d ended up on Ada’s doorstep after a fight with Robert, but it was the first time she’d shown up with bags. 

They moved into the parlor without saying a word, Ada heading straight for the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Sophie sat at the small table while Ada poured them each a drink. When she finally removed her hat, Ada slumped into the chair beside her and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you’re leaving him?” She asked, nodding to Sophie’s suitcase.

Sophie just nodded and downed the glass of whiskey in one take, hanging her head back in the chair to allow the fiery liquid a full burn all the way down.

“It’s about time,” Ada said. 

Ada was fully aware of Robert’s growing temper, Sophie sharing on more than one occasion about how her new husband was growing more aggressive. She hadn’t however, actually seen the remnants of his temper on her friends skin. Sophie was wearing a large gash above her left temple and a small cut on her right cheekbone. A bruise was blossoming there as well. 

Ada tipped up the bottle of whiskey, wetting a napkin from the table and pressed it to the cut on Sophie’s head, eliciting a sharp inhale as she did so. 

“What was it?” She asked.

“He backhanded me slamming my head into the wall” Sophie responded, explaining the placement of the injuries. 

“Bastard.” Ada shook her head.

Sophie’s response was cut short by another knock on the door, but Tommy entered the parlor before Ada could answer it. He entered the room quickly, lecturing her, once again, to keep her door locked. He’d told her many times before that anyone could come into her home if she didn’t lock the fucking door. He entered prepared for a fight but stopped when he saw Sophie sitting at the table, back turned to him. 

She recognized his steps and made eye contact with Ada, shaking her head slightly to signal that she didn’t want to talk to him.

She should have known that Tommy would end up at Ada’s house. He’d just won his seat in parliament and had, no doubt, spent the night celebrating at a number of clubs and pubs. She’d gotten lucky that Ada was even home, and not out celebrating as well. She couldn’t be so lucky as to avoid Tommy as well.

“Sophie just stopped by for a quick visit. What do you need, Tommy?” Ada asked, trying to keep his attention from her friend.

Tommy just looked back and forth between them. Of course he knew something wasn’t right. Sophie had no reason to be at Ada’s house so late at night. And she certainly had no reason to ignore him so boldly.

“Turn around,” he said.

But Sophie didn't.

“Sophie, turn around.” 

This time she turned, standing from the chair as she did so and holding her face high. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he closed the distance between them and reached his hand up to her injured cheek. 

_The bastard had struck her. Had hurt her. That fucker._ Sophie watched his expression change from shock to anger. 

“Where is he?”

Sophie tried to look away, but Tommy’s hand held her face steady.

“Where the fuck is he, eh? Tell me,” he continued. “Is he home?”

When she still wouldn’t answer him, Tommy just turned on his heel and headed back for the door. He hadn’t removed his coat, so he moved quickly without anything to slow him. Sophie grabbed at his arm and Ada called for him to stop, but he was determined to find Robert and make him pay. 

“Tommy please,” Sophie begged as they moved into the hallway toward the door. 

Turning and pointing in her face Tommy said, “Don’t you dare defend him, Sophie.”

She held tightly to his arm, and felt his pulse racing. 

No one had ever cared for her so fiercely. No one since Henry had vowed to take care of her so unabashedly. For all his flaws, Tommy had kept his promise to protect her, to avenge her, to care for her, always. 

“I’m not. I wouldn’t,” she responded. She reached her own hand to his cheek and stroked it softly. “Tommy,” she said, “I’m leaving him”

“Good,” he said and turned back toward the door. _He would pay._

“Don’t do this,” she said, desperately trying to hold onto any part of him.

“Tommy, I need you.”

He took her in fully for the first time since walking into the house. Her face was battered, but her resolve was strong. 

_She really is leaving him,_ he thought.

“Please,” she begged. "Stay"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love! Feedback always so so appreciated! XOXO


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He struggled with what he wanted to say. He couldn't imagine how anyone could hurt her--how Robert could dare lay a hand on her. He also blamed himself for what had happened. He felt like he’d failed her again and again. First Changretta, then his own arrogance, now Robert--he hadn’t actually protected her from anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks, the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading this far and for all the love you've shown this little story of mine. 
> 
> The warnings are there, but I should let you know, this chapter has a healthy amount of smut.

Tommy stood by the large bay window watching the snow fall softly on the street outside. He couldn't remember the last time he actually watched the snow. _Before the war?_

He thought of Charlie and wondered if it was snowing in Warwickshire. He hoped his son could wake to a blanket of snow outside and that he might get home to actually play in it with him. 

Charlie loved the snow, like most children, and Tommy revelled in his delight every time it fell. He loved how it kept Charlie young--he often thought his son was growing too quickly and felt a twinge of guilt that his lifestyle was to blame. Snow, though, would keep him a young boy--for a little while longer at least.

The sound of Sophie's empty glass being set on the table pulled him from the daydream.

He sat down in the chair facing her, by the fire, and looked her over again. She sat with her head laid against the high back of the chair, silent. Ada had long since left them, finally admitting her need for sleep and her early shift at the library the next day.

Sophie and Tommy stayed up, talking for a bit, but mostly sitting in silence--neither wanting to leave the other’s presence. 

She opened her eyes to find him staring.

“What?” she asked.

Tommy shook his head. 

He struggled with what he wanted to say. He couldn't imagine how anyone could hurt her--how Robert could dare lay a hand on her. He also blamed himself for what had happened. He felt like he’d failed her again and again. First Changretta, then his own arrogance, now Robert--he hadn’t actually protected her from anything. 

“I told you a long time ago that I didn’t want your pity,” she said without raising her head from the chair.

Tommy just grunted in response. She read him so easily.

She had said that. A long time ago. But it wasn’t pity that he felt--not exactly. It was something more akin to empathy. His heart broke for her. Sophie deserved so much better than this world had given her. She’d fought so hard against the evils it threw her way. But she kept losing.

“Did you fight back, Sophie?” He asked, suddenly hoping for at least a small victory.

“I pulled this on him,” she answered, patting the gun holstered to her thigh under her dress.

She still wore the gun. All this time. 

He was glad to hear that, but it pained him to think she’d spent the last six months since she met him leery of Robert's intentions. Tommy wondered if she ever grew to love him. Tommy had disliked him from the beginning, had suspected he was capable of something like this from their first encounter at Arrow House, but he hated to think she’d feared him all this time they shared a roof.

“You’ve never felt safe with him?” He asked quietly, more a statement than a question.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she responded. “More like, I wanted to make you proud--to stay cautious, aware, prepared.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile at that. _Of course she could hold her own._ It wasn’t that he couldn’t protect her all this time, it’s that she didn’t want to be protected. She wanted to take care of herself. And she had. She’d come to Ada’s, bags packed, ready to leave the prick. A new sensation, one of pride, began to work it’s way to his steeled exterior. 

“So you’re really leaving him?” Tommy finally asked. 

“I already have,” she said, letting her eyes fall closed again. “Although, I have no idea what I’ll do now.”

“You could come back, you know. To Shelby Company.” Tommy looked at his hands, not wanting to see her face when she refused his offer. He was surprised to hear her chuckle and looked up to see her smiling for the first time that night. 

He’d missed her smile.

“Ada said you'd had a hard time finding a replacement,” she said looking at him intently.

It was Tommy’s turn to let out a soft laugh. He had, indeed, been unable to keep the position filled. In truth, though, he’d only tried two new hires before giving up. No one could take her place, so he found it useless to force the issue. 

“Polly tells me I scare them all off. Suppose it's true. I scared you away,” he said, feeling his palms grow sweaty as his nerves took hold. He had things he needed to say to her. Things she needed to hear--once and for all.

With that, Sophie raised her head and sat forward in her chair. Concern grew across her face as she looked deep into the sea of his light blue irises. 

“Tommy,” she started through a heavy sigh, “You didn’t scare me away. I didn't resign because I couldn’t stand working for you.” 

She paused, but Tommy didn’t respond, too afraid of what she might say next.

Sophie continued, “I resigned because I was so--so fucking in love with you--” she stumbled over her words as she felt the tears rising in her throat. “I couldn’t be around you everyday and not be with you.” She closed her eyes with her confession--not wanting to see his face as she said it.

Tommy sat forward on the chair. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asked in a whisper, trying to control the panic in his voice.

“I was.” 

She paused for what felt like an eternity. 

_She was_ , he thought.

“I am,” she said looking directly into his eyes again, feeling bolder. “And honestly, I think I always will be, Tommy.” She shook her head slightly. “Despite my best efforts, I haven't been able to get over you.”

Her admission hit him straight in the gut. He struggled to his feet, almost too weak from shock to stand. He held his hand out for her to join him.

“Then stop trying,” he said, more confidently than he felt.

Sophie took his hand and stood to face him. Tommy's hands found her hips and wrapped, slowly, around her back. He leaned his head down to meet hers, eyes holding a steady gaze with her own.

“Then stop trying,” He said again. “Come home. To Arrow House. To the fucking horses and the garden. To Charlie--”

His voice cracked.

“--Come back to me.” 

Sophie leaned into him. She’d waited so long to hear him say the right things. She could hardly contain the anticipation building as she felt her face flush. 

“Take me upstairs,” she said, before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

That was all the confirmation Tommy needed. 

He swept her up into his arms, the same way he’d carried her through the alley the night she was injured. He made his way up the stairs with her, into the guest room where he always slept. 

She peppered kisses on his neck and jaw, like she had that night in his office, causing him to quicken his pace. He was desperate for her, realizing now that he had been since almost the moment he met her. 

Sophie hopped from his arms as soon as the door closed behind them and made quick work to remove his shoulder holster. They’re lips locked in a passionate kiss as her hands explored his chest and moved to undo shirt buttons.

His kiss felt familiar, yet somehow exciting and new. It’d been so long, but it was just as bold, just as sensual as she’d remembered. The taste of tobacco and whiskey intoxicatingly sweet on her tongue. 

His hands moved across her waist and up her back until they slid into her hair. He held her impossibly close, feeling his hardening cock against her warmth. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, forcing him to temporarily remove his hands from her to allow it to fall to the ground. She pulled at his undershirt until he relented and let her raise it over his head. 

But his hands found their pace again immediately. Her swollen lips laid kisses across his chest as he tugged at her dress, trying to work it off her without looking. When he finally dragged the zipper down her back, agonizingly slow, she let out a soft but deep breath. He pulled the dress slowly from her shoulders and stepped back to watch it pool around her feet. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered. 

She stepped closer to him again, the familiar sweet scent of peonies filling his breath and mind. She reached to remove his belt and worked the buttons on his trousers. Her hand explored further down, stroking his hard cock through the rough fabric. He let out an involuntary hiss as he clenched teeth in reaction to her touch.

Tommy felt the heat rising on his skin. He wanted Sophie--needed her--but was desperate to slow down, to savor the moment. He knew she was leaving Robert, but he feared this might be his only chance with her. He didn’t want to waste it. He needed to relish in her. He needed to make it last, even long after the night was over. 

He moved her back toward the bed slowly, stepping out of his trousers as they fell to the floor. They were both exposed now, more than they’d ever been with one another. 

He laid her gently on the bed without removing his lips from hers. His hands explored freely now, fingers tugging at her bra straps, hands splaying over her skin, cupping her breasts softly. He untied her bra and slipped it off her arms. Her hard nipples nearly drove him to the edge and he immediately sought after them with his mouth. As he took the first one between his lips gently, Sophie let out a soft moan. 

She’d never felt so electric. She clutched at him, at his hair, at his shoulders, attempting to ground herself. She wasn't surprised that he knew all the right ways to touch her. Knew just what drove her mad. Her breath was no longer controllable, building as her need grew.

He could barely stand it, the woman of his dreams falling apart at his touch, his kiss. One hand ventured lower, finding the lace band of her panties. He pushed his fingers along her core over the dampening silk. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, unable to control it. “So wet.”

Her eyes rolled back--his soft brum hitting her right in the stomach where her desire bubbled close to the breaking point. As many times as she’d dreamed of it, she never thought she’d hear him say these things to her. It drove her mad.

“God,” she said, needing him closer. “Tommy. Please.”

Hearing his name, like that, from her lips drove him to a quickened pace. He removed the holster from her thigh and pulled her panties down, lifting her hips from the bed to remove them. He spread her open and, without warning, dipped his fingers inside.

Sophie’s hips bucked, with no control from her mind, as her eyes slammed shut. 

His fingers stroked in and out of her as his thumb found her clit, rubbing small circles that grew quicker and wider as she writhed against him. Her mouth fell open, unable to control the noises falling from her now.

“Tommy,” she groaned, his name the only word she could find. 

He worked quickly, but gently. His hand moving at one pace while his lips moved at another. He licked and nipped at her neck as his hips moved involuntarily. Sophie reached for his cock, releasing it from his boxers, and began to stroke it to match pace with his movements. A deep groan began to build in his chest. 

He couldn’t take much more of their play--of his name breathy on her lips.

“Jesus, Sophie,” he whispered into her skin. “Come for me, love.” His deep brum had been replaced by a voice she'd never heard revealing his desperation.

She grabbed his face, pulling it back so she could look in his eyes. The bright blue that usually stared back had blown. “Fuck, Sophie,” he said, before crashing his lips to hers. 

Unready for it, her orgasm surprised her and crashed against her walls. She felt herself tighten around his fingers. He rocked her through the orgasm but didn't stop. Her eyes squeezed shut and stars filled her vision. Watching her come undone was almost more than he could take, and Tommy swiftly moved between her legs and steadied himself.

He thrust into her with a deep groan that Sophie felt land between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” he said louder.

Sophie gripped his back, his face buried again in her neck. He laid there, not moving, giving them both time to adjust. She’d imagined this moment so many times, but couldn’t have been prepared for the feeling of Tommy inside her. She held her breath, thankful for his weight on top of her as she feared she’d otherwise float away.

When he did begin to move, slowly at first, Sophie could finally breathe again. Tommy was trying desperately to keep control, but Sophie began to rock her hips against him and he felt his own orgasm rising. Bracing one of her legs against his chest, he gained deeper access and sent them both reeling. Her hand reached for his, and he took it, interlocking his fingers with her own. 

He pulled her up to sit on top of him, not slowing his thrusts. She took control, pushing her hips forward. The new position sent him to the brink. His thrusts grew erratic and he groaned into her neck and held her braced tightly against him. She felt him spill inside her and her own orgasm followed right behind. He continued to rock her through it, slowly.

They stayed in that position, clutching to one another, as they came down from their high. Sophie pulled back, holding his face in her hands, and smiled. Tommy couldn’t help but smile in return as he lay his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. 

* * *

Tommy, as expected, woke first. He lay perfectly still for as long as he could stand it. He wanted to savor the moment with Sophie, clinging to him, skin on skin, sheets spread around the bed--the evidence of their long anticipated night devouring one another strewn all about the room. He felt warm, physically and emotionally--like he’d been wrapped in a blanket and tucked into bed with a glass of whiskey.

But better than that, he’d been tucked in with her.

He brushed Sophie’s hair from her face. Her head lay rested on his shoulder. He remembered the morning they woke together on Watery Lane. She’d been embarrassed, had pulled the sheets over herself when she realized they’d been wrapped in one another. As much as he wanted to let her sleep, he needed her awake. Needed to see how she woke this morning, after giving of herself so completely last night.

“Soph,” he said softly, stroking the arm she’d thrown across his waste.

She stirred, but didn’t wake completely.

“Sophie, love,” he said, a bit louder.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, so she could see his face. Her eyes opened, still droopy with sleep and contentment. “Hmmm,” she moaned, blinking slowly.

“Good morning,” Tommy offered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. 

She kissed him. “Good morning.” Then kissed him again, smiling.

His thumb found her lips when she pulled away. Tommy shook his head. _Goddammit_ , he thought. 

“Bloody fucking perfect,” he said.

He moved to rise from the bed but Sophie wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t you dare, Tommy Shelby,” she teased him.

“Hmmm,” he responded, pulling away, “but I have a surprise for you.”

She pulled the sheets up around her chest as she watched Tommy step into his boxers and pants. She let out an unchecked groan, prompting Tommy to turn to her. He smiled, wide.

“You better come right back,” she said, rolling onto her side and letting one leg breech the sheets seductively.

“Wouldn’t dream of keeping you waiting,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “And you better not put on a stitch of clothing while I’m gone,” he whispered. He gave her one last cheeky smile and headed out of the door and down the stairs.

Sophie couldn’t wipe her own smile from her face. She tried, but it came right back. 

She heard Tommy rummaging in the kitchen and thought, for once, she would allow herself the happiness.

* * *

He fought with the percolator, never having actually learned to use one but wanting to deliver a piping hot cup of coffee to Sophie in bed. A cigarette hung from his mouth, ashes building as he used both his hands to make sense of the chore in front of him. 

He heard footsteps behind him.

“I thought I said--,” before realizing something was wrong. 

It wasn’t Sophie behind him.

Tommy turned and removed the cigarette from his lips. 

He found himself staring into the barrel of a gun. 

* * *

Sophie drifted in and out of sleep, fighting it hard as she wanted to be awake when Tommy returned to the room. 

That’s when she realized she no longer heard him in the kitchen and listened carefully to try to place him in the house. It was eerily quiet but she gave him a few minutes, assuming he’d just stepped into the back of the house for some reason. 

But the voice she heard sent a chill down her spine. She shot straight up in the bed. 

She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but there was no doubt it was Robert. 

* * *

“Mr. Shelby,” Robert said, “Your sister really should be more careful to lock her door. Anyone can wander in.”

They’d moved from the kitchen to the parlor. Tommy sat at the table where, just the night before, Sophie had been seated. He held his breath, hoping she had fallen back asleep and couldn’t hear them downstairs.

He had her demon in his sights. 

Tommy wasn’t sure how, but he’d rid them both of the devil before the day was out.

“I think we should have a chat about my wife,” Robert said, taking a seat at the table across from Tommy. 

“Hmm,” Tommy responded, tapping his cigarette in the small crystal ashtray between them. “And what is it you want to discuss?”

“You take me for a fool, Mr. Shelby, and that’s your first mistake.”

Tommy just sat silently, letting the ticking clock on the mantle make the only sound. Men like Robert, in all their arrogance, always had more to say.

“I know what she’s been doing, behind my back, with you.”

“And what is that?”

Robert slammed his fist on the table--the same one he’d used to strike Sophie the night before. Tommy felt his own hand build a fist in response, but as always kept a cool demeanor and stoic expression.

“How long have you been fucking my wife?” Robert shouted.

“I thought you knew what she’d been doing,” was all Tommy said in response, extinguishing his cigarette and leaning forward. He rested his elbows on the table with his hands folded in front of him. 

Robert raised the pistol again, making a show to threaten Tommy. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a gun in his face and, as strange as it felt to think it, he hoped it wouldn't be the last. 

“If you knew your wife at all, you’d know she’d never let you get away with hitting her,” Tommy said, leaning into the skid.

Robert stood, keeping the gun trained on Tommy’s face. “Where the fuck is she?” He demanded.

“Upstairs,” Tommy said calmly, “ in my bed.” A smug smirk, the one that had always driven Sophie crazy, grew across his face.

Robert kicked the chair he’d been sitting in, sending it flying across the room. Tommy blinked, slowly, as if nothing had happened. _If she hadn’t been awake before,_ he thought, _she surely is now._

“You fucking diddicoy scum,” Robert yelled. “I should kill you where you sit, make a mess of your sister’s carpets. You think you’ve won, don’t you? Well I hope you enjoyed your fuck last night, because it will be your last!”

Just as Tommy opened his mouth to respond, he heard the creak on the stairs. 

_Fuck_ , he thought, _Sophie_.

Panic rose in his chest but he quickly cleared his throat, hoping Robert hadn’t heard her.

But he had.

Robert turned his head to face in the direction of the stairs just as Sophie took the last step and came into view. He kept the gun on Tommy, but focused his eyes on her. 

Tommy’s heart sank and he stood quickly.

There she was, in the robe Ada left hanging on the back of the door, no shoes, her hair a mess. He’d have been in complete awe with her if he wasn’t focused on the revolver in her hand, pointed directly at her husband. 

* * *

Ada turned the knob to the front door, chiding herself for leaving it unlocked again. _Good thing Tommy didn’t find it like this_ , she thought.

As soon as she entered the foyer, she knew something was wrong. She heard murmurs come from the parlor, but couldn't make out who the voices belonged to. 

She slowly removed her gloves and hat and sat them on the small table by the door. 

Just as she let her coat slide off her shoulders, she heard the gunshot.

It reverberated through the whole house, bouncing off of every hard surface and landing squarely between her ears. 

Her stomach dropped.

Then she heard the thud...

...like the sound of a body...

...hitting the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, so so so much for reading, commenting, and liking! 
> 
> XOXO


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